People at home in Canada keep telling me I chose the right winter to leave. They’ve been pummeled by freezing temperatures and tons of snow, east coast to west. While they say this with some humour, they are genuinely sincere that I’m lucky to miss the winter.
Thing is, I love winter. I love the snow, the slowed pace, I even love how the tip of your nose freezes and you only realize it’s gone numb when you brush it against your scarf. Mostly, I’m pissed because for the 5 winters I spent in Toronto, we never had much snow, meaning there wasn’t great cross country ski season north of the city. Now they’re in the flush and I’m in 7 degree sunshine in Brussels (a welcome change from the rain!). There’s no snow for hundreds of miles.
Not saying I’m not grateful when I can wake up, dress in my warmest stretchy tights and go out and do this:
Funny thing I’ve realized lately… You never know how lucky you are. You might think so, you might think you appreciate fully what you’re living, but you can’t actually know until the moment has passed and you don’t have it anymore. So, for the time being, I’m going to love this backyard, 7 degrees in the morning, the rain, and even the lack of double glazing on my street-front bedroom window at 2am when the bar across the street closes. It’s part of the life I’ve got now. The charm of the experience.
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