Winter is nearly halfway through! It feels hard to believe that the season is slipping past so quickly. For years, I have hated winter. My fingers and toes go white with cold (thanks Raynaud’s Phenomenon), I tug on jumpers and thick socks and turn the heater up.
For a few years after my mum died, I took the family up to Cairns for a week during the winter school holidays. It was enough to warm out bones. Stepping out into the soft tropical air fragrant with frangipanis, my body softened, unaware of how tightly it had been holding itself.
When COVID hit, that stopped. As the days darkened to grey, I cranked up the heaters. I knitted scarves and beanies and fingerless gloves. I made warm soups and slow cooked dinners. We turned inward like the way I changed my furniture arrangement with the seasons. Couch and arm chairs facing inward in winter, and outward in summer. Those three years there was a lot of inward facing.
This year, my hubby and I took an out-of-school …
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