My North

I was born into the north, into the snow and darkness of January.
I know I am alive when I can see my breath. Every breath brings the cold in and the warmth out.
Tripple glassed windows keeping the warmth in and the cold out. Winter always brought me the best, in the winter I always thrived.
My grandma taught me to knit by the fire in the cold months, I rode the kick on the icy streets of the small village. I learned to ski on the lawn of my grandparents house and I ran and skated on the frozen water of the lake.

I always loved the smell of snow that is about to fall, a promise and the stillness, the quietness that becomes of the world when it falls.
I might be scared of the dark, but the winter is truly never dark. The winter hugs me gently, oh so gently, in the roughest kind of ways.