Winter.

Winter is a strange time for me. I pause now, awkwardly struggling to properly articulate it, all while chastising myself a bit for awkwardly struggling to properly articulate it in the first place.

Winter is the very literal, very visual death of all things, an unavoidable reminder for us all of our own mortality. It's cold and unforgiving. Everything living suffers in some way during the hard months, even if it's something as minute, for instance, as peaches being out of season and peaches are your favorite fruit. Winter is apocalyptic; heavy, sinister. Creeping. Sinewy and surreal. Winter is doom. 

I wilt during the winter months. I'm of the sun; West Indian by descent. Everything about me is warm. I'm as sweet as honey when the air is warm, the flowers at the peak of their bloom. They sway sensually to their natural, beautiful rhythm in the breeze and so do I. My skin glows, my hair is at it's fullest, and I'm as supple as a ripe plum. But I wilt and threaten to wither away from November to April (and most recently, May).  

From November to April (and most recently, May), the once lush green leaf turns cracked and brittle. The clouds breathe down an air so cold as to lay waste to the farmer's crops. The wildlife either runs away or hibernates or dies once touched by the first fateful kiss of winter. Produce tastes different. Everything is just a little more awful.

But oh, what a beautiful, visually striking, scintillating death to behold! Each snowflake twinkles and glistens in the moonlight, treating the eye to a dazzling array of silvers and purples and blues. As debilitating as it is, what cleaner, more refreshing feeling is there than a breath of severe winter air? There is nothing like a little death to make one appreciate what it is to feel truly alive, it would seem. 

My mom loves the cold. I can't understand it. She brightens and beams when it snows. It's lovely to watch her; she looks beautiful. I have a picture of her in a huge winter coat and hat, standing in a whiteout snowstorm with such a genuine, heart warming smile on her face that it brought me to tears when I looked at it the first time. 

I'm convinced I'm adopted, lol. :)

Winter is such a strange time for me. I can't stand it, and I count the days until I can swim and wear sundresses once more, but it's such a pleasure to watch and experience. It's kind of cool to watch everything die around me, bringing the infinite cycle of birth, life, and death full circle. I find it surreal to watch everything around me die a little bit faster than I; to survive watching everything die around me. There's a distinct, unmatched beauty in winter to me, much as I loathe it. Even the first kiss of it. Especially the first kiss of it. 

Ironic, how warm winter can be at times...at least for me. My mom morphs into a sparkling faerie during the winter. There are Xmas and Kwanzaa parties, and everything is spiked with full bodied liquor and a little laughter. Memories are made, candles are burned, and most of the time, there is apple cider. 

I'll never turn down a mug of spiced apple cider.