"Bare Winter" by Finna Halsey

The snow finally falls, after weeks of impatient waiting. For too long, the trees stood bare, the grass lingered stubbornly, and the usual softness of winter was absent. 

We are used to a winter that hides, one that cradles us in the gentleness of time. The snow usually buries the dead leaves, softens the harsh pavement, and shrouds the transformation. Spring life grows under the blanket of our quiet worlds, ready once the snow melts. This year, the transformation is raw, uncertain, and in our face. We cannot turn away from the secrets once hidden beneath the snow. This year has not been soft around the edges; it has been sharp, piercing, and exposed. Only rarely have we gotten enough snowfall to blur and smooth the landscape. 

I used to see winter as an escape, a time of brilliant silence, when everything else slipped quietly away. This year has been anything but; it’s been stark, unavoidable. 

This winter has a new goal: it demands honesty, accountability, and recognition. This winter has exposed. 

Without the feet of snow, we bury nothing. This winter has shoved truth in our face and demanded we see it. The bracing families, the fear, the division, and the hate are not hidden this winter; they are emphasized. The changing seasons, the loss of a winter we knew, grew up with, and took for granted, is evident. No longer can we act like the staggering statistics are invisible when they are embedded in our complaints, present in our wishes, driving our frustrations. Winter that once used to dwell, and linger is now thrusting us towards the future, a future standing plainly in front of us. A future that is looming. 

This winter is pressing. It has stripped away the illusion of endless time. Stripped us of the comfort of distance. Demanded that we stay aware, present, and active.

In this winter, we face honesty, we face hardship, and we face uncertainty. 

We stand exposed–

to the cold, 

to the change, 

to one another, 

to who we are becoming.

And we are forced to choose, to act, to acknowledge. This winter has been unusual; it has broken a cycle of expectation and comfort to force a movement of action. In this winter that refuses to hide anything, we must not either. 

We must not cower from action, we must not remove ourselves from conversations and we must not forget, even as the snow finally falls, to come together with love.