Winter Solstice

After my second cup of coffee, I wipe the sleepy tears from my eyes and head out into the winter morning. It is time for my commute to work, but today, instead of climbing aboard my bike, I step into my cross-country skies. The snow is nearly a foot-and-a-half deep and beckons to come romp in its pillowy softness. Into the woods behind my house, I glide, Cricket barking at my heels.

Some kind soul has walked this path in snowshoes before me and made deep, packed channels that snake through the trees. The snow clings to branches like dollops of whipped cream and holds the sounds of the forest, muffling them, and making the air feel thick and still.

A little farther on, I see the signs of a turkey that must have been dancing in the moonlight last night, its tail feathers creating a ringed pattern in the snow, reminiscent of what a dancer might leave from spinning in a reed-grass skirt. The feathers cut sharp furrows in the powder, forming concentric rings that spiral ever outward.

I slide down a hill onto the community soccer field and find that a quiet fog has pushed off the ground and hangs in a strip, hovering shoulder high. I duck under it and then stand up tall. My face pokes in and out of the mist. The cool wetness is caressing and the humid air, a balm.

Back into the woods again, this time with gathering speed, up and over snow-covered logs and stones, hills and hummocks, until I reach a ridge from which I can see the ocean through the trees. I stop and wait.

These are dark days. As a mental-health counselor, I am running out of consoling words. “It will get better,” I promise. “We are all in this together,” I remind. “You are resilient,” I beg. But, I see my clients’ worn faces and hear of their isolation and increasing exhaustion, and I feel I am running out of tools to help. All I want for them is to be out here, finding dancing turkeys, frozen seafoam, and ducking under snowy mist. This is the best medicine, this is where there is still boundless hope and beauty.

As I stand waiting, the sun finally makes its appearance, seeming to have to prod itself up over the horizon in a half-hearted effort to lift above the trees. It seems tired, like many of us are, like it needs to rest. But as the sun changes hues from orange to yellow, I watch it gather strength and commit to another day, to bringing a little more light to our world, every day from here on out.

Happy Solstice. The light is coming.