Maybe I’m Falling Apart
Maybe I’m being made new
I used to live for the first winter snow, back when I was a kid. I’m not sure if I enjoyed the winter, per se, or if it was something that I simply counted on. Something consistent when a prevailing theme of my childhood was inconsistency.
The first snow was so important to me, in fact, that I grew anxious when a blanket of white fluff didn’t cover the…