Written February 24, 2023

Day 3 of 40 in a 45-day period: Most Friday evenings as I take my girls home from the playground, I hope the pending meltdowns will hold off until we walk through the door. A few weeks ago we caught the sky at dusk, a reminder of warmer, longer days ahead. Then we got home and one’s Rubik’s cube wasn’t the way she wanted it, another was just too exhausted to do anything other than sprawl herself and her things across the living room floor and the third could not begin to comprehend why playing a game on iReady was not happening.

The day-to-day of raising children reminds me of winter, even when we’re in the midst of a mild winter season. Despite a warmer winter, I am freezing nearly every time I walk outside despite my heavy coat and layers. The wind is in my face, regardless of the direction I’m walking and my nose seems to run as soon as I step outside no matter the temperature. It starts to feel like it is an endless season.

This evening I wasn’t taking my girls home from the playground thanks to the mid-winter break and instead, I stepped out after 5 p.m., startled to discover it was still sunny. Not dusk, but sunny. After running a few errands I came down the street just in time to catch a window of dusk. The time of day when you get to hold onto the light just a little longer until night sets in. It’s happening later and later, a reminder that winter can only hold on for so long until it releases us from its cold, welcoming more light, more warmth.

I’ve been in a tough stretch of parenting as of late. One of those stretches when it starts to feel like things are stuck in winter - there is little growth and it often feels like I’m walking into the wind. Nights like tonight remind me that sometimes growth isn’t felt until all of a sudden the fractals fall into place and create a clear picture. I’m reminded to be patient, despite how much easier that is said than done.

But maybe the answer isn’t always about patience and riding out the seasons. Maybe today, the answer is to hold onto the light, knowing it will stick around just a little longer each day until a new season arrives, bringing with it a clearer picture.