Extra Layers

 I love this time of year, the After time. Don't get me wrong. I love the holidays too. Having the kids home for weeks and sharing their daily lives again is awesome. I love the decor and the celebrations and the food and even all the preparation in the kitchen and in the stores, collecting and gathering and creating. It's wonderful - the most wonderful time of the year. But what I really appreciate is this After time of year, the time after the grandiose holidays and the days before the spring air begins to breeze in. Winter - the Heart of Winter. The cold wind blows. The sun is low. The days are short. I don't even mind the darkness, it's a good excuse to go to bed early and wrap myself in books and tea and a heating pad. (I can't help it - I'm not young anymore.) And what calls to us is extra layers. Extra blankets on the bed. Extra sweaters and woolen mittens. Thick socks and furry slippers. A cozy wrap, a long scarf. Oatmeal in the morning. A bowl of hot soup. Bread fresh from the oven. The steam that rises diffuses the chill in the air. And the fire place lit. If not that, at least the glow of a candle. I will even go out in the cold as long as I have extra layers. We long for warmth and wrap ourselves in whatever we can find to fight the frigid air. Bring on the wind and the storms and the snow. I'm fine because I have Extra Layers. 

Some people are like extra layers too. They give us a smile or a wink. I know I walk down the hall at school with a pensive look on my face, but a nod from a colleague makes me laugh. A note from a friend who I haven't spoken to in a while lightens my day. An unexpected phone call is joy to my ears. A passing acquaintance who shares a rare memory of my mother sends me back to simpler times. A hug from a son reminds me that we are all okay. A pat on the back comes at just the right moment. These keep us afloat despite the ice floes around us. 

One extra layer that is missing in our house this year is our dog, Cody. Cody brought a warmth to our days and our house and our kids and our lives. He didn't even need to do anything. He would lay in the sunny spot in the living room soaking up the sun, even if it was 29 degrees outside. And for some reason the heat he seemed to absorb in his furry little being would filter its way through our house. We felt his heat and it warmed us, body and spirit. 

So the other night at dinner, when my husband said, "I think we're ready", I could hardly believe it. (It's been an ongoing discussion.) A new dog! A new warmth for our chilly house. So we are on the hunt for an extra layer, an extra special dog, that we have been missing in our family. I can't wait to welcome them in.

But what do you do when you reach for that extra layer, that tried and true favorite old blanket, that for years and years has wrapped you up and protected you against the cold and the ice, and it has become threadbare? When grandfather's old sweater has been moth-eaten and torn? When the thick, homespun wool is now dried up and disintegrated? You reach for what was beloved and known and it is like dust between your fingers? How do you recreate what once stood for everything you loved and treasured in this world? 

We face many crises in life. We lose things that once brought us warmth and hope and light. Things that felt comfortable and secure and dependable. Things that we could trust to be there in times of need. We could wrap ourselves up and protect ourselves and our loved ones. What do we do when those things are gone? 

I grieve for what I have lost, for those whom we have lost, and for all that we have lost. I'm waiting anxiously for us to say, "I think we're ready." We need some Extra Layers. We need to fight the cold and ice.