Winter is one of my favorite seasons. Next to spring, where there is the blossoming of new life and bright colors, winter is my favorite. The season where green things die and animals fly away to places much warmer than the home they’ve had for the last four months or so.

To me winter is like an entirely new spring. Although the trees are void of life and reach willfully to the sky freezing like the rest of us, there is–in some small way– the beginning of new life. I feel more alive in winter because I feel more. The stinging of the wind in my eyes, on my cheeks, and on my nose makes me smile (most of the time) and I revel in the frigidness of the morning air. When I’m walking to class early on a Monday morning and I inhale the sharp cold into my lungs I am reminded that winter is not just a place for dead things to hide, but a place for sleeping things to be awakened. To me winter is a reminder of being awakened–to live in the moment and brace for the cold winters and the days where life tries to beat us down.

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