In the month of November, the leaves crisp and fall completely to the ground, leaving the trees bare and without clothes. I used to think trees without leaves were witches that, once upon a time, had been cursed and then solidified into bark. The wintertime used to be the season of imagination. The wintertime, though I am not a particular fan, makes me curious and question things.
I once asked a person in my class what their favorite season was, and when they said it was winter, I was honestly shocked. I have always preferred having my hair bleached by the sun, my highlights glowing, rather than dealing with them freezing and being taken over by static electricity. And of course, there is the hot summer weather that makes you want to throw on a tank top and biker shorts and just embrace all that vitamin D.
But their only response to liking the winter was that they enjoy bundling up in the cold, the feeling of warmth in the cold. My immediate thought was, “Why not enjoy warmth in warm weather during summertime?” And that seemed to leave them thinking.
And that got me thinking, too, that even though the wintertime is not my favorite season, why not embrace it when it is cold? Now I am not suggesting you go outside with a tank top and biker shorts on and let every part of your body freeze. But I am suggesting that you enjoy the moments of the wintertime.Â
When I think of the wintertime, I think of gray sky and zero sunshine or brightness. I also think about how dark the sky is at night. When the local shops of Central West End’s string lights turn on in the dark, the ember gold of the lights is intensified by the cold dark. I think of the bigger crowds that form during the winter as if they are trying to provide warmth for themselves by staying together in big crowds.
When I think of the wintertime, I think about how, although some people categorize Thanksgiving as fall, I categorize my holidays based on the weather outside. To me, Thanksgiving falls during the winter season. I think of the people that are coming together in the warm houses with candles lit, and for me, a vegetarian, a turkey-shaped garlic bread that my sister always puts too much salt on. I think of our nontraditional Thanksgiving Italian dinner made by Indians, with different pastas, lasagna and minestrone soup, entering my taste buds.Â
When I think of the wintertime, I think of Macy’s stores and of how they will start off the day with “it’s tiiiiiiimme” from holiday singer Mariah Carey, signaling the start of the winter holiday season. I think of shopping and going crazy during Black Friday, running up and down the aisles, trying to find the last size in the sale rack (which could be cheaper, but the stores of Lululemon want more money out of us, as if 99-dollar sale leggings are so cheap).Â
I was on my way to Noodles and Company, ordering a new pasta with cheese filling, when I looked at Andy’s, the ice cream store next door, and I saw people still ordering cold sweet treats. They held onto their coats with their pale fingers, alternating which hand went inside their pocket and which hand held the ice cream. Even when it is freezing, we embrace the weather with cold sweet treats.Â
When I think of the wintertime, I think of going on slippery, deadly ice, engaging in the doomed activity of ice skating. Each time I know I am going to fall and bruise my knees, but I still enjoy it because I pick myself up, and I am surrounded by people who love each other. Whether it is couples holding hands, families with children clinging to their parents or kids confidently outskating the adults, the scene is the same, connection everywhere.
When I think of the winter time, I think of the holiday season. I think of my family gathering together, playing card games of Uno and forgetting to say “Uno,” and picking up a card from everyone. I think of my sister slipping in three cards, trying to get me to lose terribly. I think of everyone giving each other a white elephant Christmas present because our family is big, and we enjoy the laughter of giving dumb gifts. I remember when my cousin gave me a blue mini toy car and wrote, “You can crash this one too,” reminding me of the time I totaled my Tesla.
When I think of the wintertime, I think of moments like these, ice cream eaten with numb fingers, string lights glowing brighter against the early dark, crowded sidewalks where people gather just a little closer. And maybe that is what winter has been trying to teach me all along. It is not a season that asks to be compared to summer; it is a season that asks to be felt.
Winter strips everything down, the trees, the daylight, even our patience, and in its bare, exposed quiet, it leaves room for us to notice what keeps us warm. Not the weather, not the coats, not even the fireplaces, but the people. The moments. The small, bright things we create together.