The winter storm stirs up wonders. Through snow and wind, bending and blowing, the very things that should be buried beneath layers of ice and frozen to the earth resurface. A perfect white canvas, now speckled with autumn’s remnants.
Sometimes, healing feels like this. A storm blows through, uncovering things we thought we had buried. Triggers, past traumas—showing up at the most inopportune times. But instead of fighting it, I take notice. I don’t chastise the leaf for landing on fresh snow. I don’t demand that it disappear. Instead, I wonder—how did the wind carry it here? I notice the edges, the color-worn but not damaged.
We can make matters worse by denying what surfaces. We can freeze our hands trying to dig through the snow, desperate to put things back where they belong. Or we can simply notice. Be curious. Trust that, just like the leaf, these things will find their way—no matter how much they contrast against the untouched snow.
