It’s so damned cold in January.
Is it cold that I hate so much?
Or is it the lifeless, colorless backdrop in which I’m still expected to function?
My husband and I met in January. It was during a snow storm.
I still remember crawling into my car and starting it, turning the defrosters on, then blow on my own hands to warm them. He chased me out to my car to get my phone number, and I knew right then that he was worth keeping around.
Why was it in January?
I suppose I’m grateful because it gave us something to celebrate.
Two years later, we were married, in a snow storm.
Not in January.
But still, in a snow storm…
Four years after the night we met (almost to the day), our first daughter was born… in January.
Another something to celebrate.
It’s been 10 years since Scott and I first met in January.
Sophia will be seven on the 26th of January.
And I thank God that He gave me such beautiful gifts, in what used to be the worst month of the year for me: January.