I love the snow. I’m a Buffalo girl, and a snowboarder, and a winter baby, and I love just love it. My bedroom window looks out into our backyard, and I would insist that people not walk back there because it ruined the pretty, perfect snow. That said, I can afford to love the snow. I have a nice house, with a bedroom that looks out on the snow while I’m warm and snug inside, and I’ve always had at least one winter coat, and more scarves and gloves and hats than I need. My extended family jokes that my house is always cold, but it isn’t really. If I feel chilled I can put on a hoodie, or crawl under a blanket, or build a fire. I can love the snow and cold because I’m protected by my privilege. I was supposed to take my mentee to get clothes and toys and winter coats for her children today. I don’t know what the exact reasoning was because of the language gap, but her husband came with me instead and she stayed with the kids. We were supposed to go to this charitable organization, but we got there too late, and they wouldn’t help us. It was snowing today, and it’s supposed to snow all week, and her kids don’t have coats. They’re Burmese, and this is their first Buffalo winter, and while I don’t know if they like the snow, I’m worried that they’re cold. The girls are in school, and they’re going to have to get there, in the snow, without coats. We’ll go back, and it’ll work out, and they’ll get coats, and toys, and blankets for the baby, and it’ll be ok, but it puts my little complaints into such sharp perspective. I am so shaped by how incredibly undeservingly lucky I have been, that even tiny things, like loving the snow, are part of it.
I’m sorry. That was heavy. I strive for lightness, and oatmeal posts (EGS sent me a great-sounding recipe), but I keep coming back to gloom. Things are great so much of the time- I just bop along, playing mandolin and…well that was most of what I did today, and that was nice. I told myself I had to practice until I played “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” perfectly, and it took longer than I expected. I did it though. 🙂 Things are good, but that’s sort of the point- things are good for me, the well-educated white chick who can take a gap year without worrying. Gah! I’m doing it again! Ok, happy thing- I bought my cat a Santa suit. Technically, it’s for dogs, but I saw it at the store, and it just called my name, so I bought it anyway. I have a special relationship with my cat, and she seems to really trust me, and tonight I proved just how foolish that was. She looks so darn cute though! I will be posting pictures, but I won’t have my camera cord back until Monday. It’s wonderful though- dressing my cat up is the true meaning of Christmas.