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A part of Winter
Singing Agathe
We took Winters as our last name.  Most of it was a flight of fancy; it sounds very important and serious, it has connections to the cycle of seasons, it speaks to our Minnesotan heritage.  Yet this winter has put a strain on that decision.  It has been bitterly cold, arctic levels.  The darkness seems to have spanned longer that usual.  It happens every year around this time, but this February, people are sick of winter.

And yet tonight, amidst the treacherous snowstorm, I find the part of winter that I love the most.  The downfall of snow, wiping away from sight anything more than a block away.  The reflection of the streetlights in a million flakes of snow, making it even brighter than it would be on a clear night.  The feeling of comfort and security that is reinforced by being inside, safely contained within wall and roof.  And of course, the snowfall silence.  Each bit of snow muffling the sounds of the world around us, and replacing it with an icy strangeness in the air.

It is a privileged position I take, I know.  But I revel in it.  And it makes me celebrate the last night we took on for our family.  This is what being Winter is about.