Apparently, I'm still growing. Thankfully, some of the crucial insights of adulthood have stuck. But despite my completely idealistic youthful beliefs that I would one day feel entirely grown up, there are still a few things I'm waiting to either let go of or outgrow.
Stuff piles up in life, just like the snow, and it's a pain in the neck to shovel through it all. That's why sometimes, no matter the weather, it's a good idea to declare a snow day, fix a cup of tea and do nothing at all.
I grew up in the Midwest, born in Chicago, raised on the Southwest Side. We have four seasons. That's true for a lot of people, from a lot of places. Any generation, from any region accustomed to cold and snow in winter, has their own legendary storms.
In the dark of predawn I lay in bed, tucked snugly beneath my downy comforter, sleet pinging against the window panes in soft yet fitful waves. Against all odds associated with parenthood, no one under the age of 8 burst into the room to announce that the sky was falling.