Tonight, the flurries of snow reminded me of an experience I had last December while looking out the window of the gym I work out in and about which I think I started a post but never finished it.
As I felt the magic of watching the snow fall onto frosted trees outside the window, I wondered at how it didn't carry the sting of watching alone, from a smelly gym, without 'someone special' and without a home in which I felt completely, totally secure and in my own element, where everything was just right in the world. I realized then that my happy memories filled whatever void I thought should probably be there. I remembered feeling, when I was a child, like all was right and safe and secure in the world because I was home, wrapped in a blanket, with my family, my cat, hot cocoa with sourdough toast, and a crackling fire as the snow swirled beautifully outside. I remembered feeling, as an adult, wholly at peace and at home in the most profound sense with my arms wrapped around someone special whose breathing felt like an extension of me and an affirmation that I was meant to and able to share life as we kept each other warm against the elements.
Rather than missing those days when I felt those things, the memory of them glowed within me, and I smiled at the richness and comfort they brought which I have forgotten or rejected at times. I wished everyone could have such memories but figured many people don't, and I was warmly grateful to have them to cherish and to provide hope for future memories rather than sorrowful that new ones were not presently being created. To lament not having someone special to bundle up with now or no longer being a wide-eyed child in a simpler world seemed petty and ungrateful, and for that moment, I was again a wide-eyed child who had known his fair share of love and warmth.
That perspective will not always be easy to maintain, but when it comes, it's worth remembering.