I spent the last two days snowed in with my family. It was glorious.
Here in North Carolina, we had a record snowfall (and if it wasn’t a record, sweet mercy, what nightmarish hell happened previously?!). We got all of winter in one night. It was kind of insane. And fun. At least at our house. We threw logs into the fireplace, dug under blankets, pulled unwitting cats into snuggling range, and watched the Lord of the Rings Extended Edition. A few times, I went out to walk the dog. I said hi to some local deer and fed them some bread (yes, I know, bread isn’t the best thing for them, but shut up, it’s all we had).
I found myself thinking that this was the absolute best way to spend a snowstorm. Luxury, bordering on decadence.
As someone with Depression, I’ve heard ‘you shouldn’t be sad, think of all the people out there who have it worse than you’. I’ve never cared for that expression. It doesn’t help; in fact, it makes things considerably worse. I don’t feel like my ability to feel a certain way – be it good or bad – should be subject to the global status. That said, I do also keep them in mind.
With every bite of winter’s chill, with every moment I spend with my feet up, with every full stomach after a good meal, with every hug of a loved one, I turn a thought towards those who have no warmth, no food, no loved ones. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s a medicine I think everyone should take so as to inoculate ourselves against complacency. Some people will have more, some people will have less. But no one should have nothing.
I enjoy my life. I’m grateful for it. And I try to help, in ways big and small, those who lead a life less idyllic than mine, to find their own sanctuary.
I hate to ruin a winter wonderland, but it’s important to periodically remember those who are cold when you are warm, those who are hungry when you are full.