Its kind of awful outside.
Last night it snowed, but by dawn it had turned to freezing rain. As the day went on, the temperature climbed just high enough for the sleet to mix with rain. A steady, dreary, icy drizzle fell all day, turning the snow to mounds of frozen slush.
Its foggy out there, too. If I pull aside my nice thick curtains, I can peer out into the murky night. I see the lights on my neighbor’s porch shining through the gauzy mist, illuminating the dripping, frozen trees.
Its a dark, cold, wet night. The kind of night that had us pulling all the curtains closed early, closing us in with our fire and our hot soup and our warm blankets.
I wonder, as I sit here all cozy and safe, how many women my age are outside on this freezing night? I wonder how many kids are trying to curl up in cardboard boxes on city streets, desperate to keep the slush from soaking through their sleeping bags. I wonder, as I pull the fleece blanket higher around my shoulders, how I came to be a lucky woman in a warm house, knowing that at this very moment, everyone that I love is equally safe and sheltered and warm.
I sit here, listening to the steady rhythm of icy drops falling from the eaves. I wonder why there are families in my town, my state, my country who have no safe, dry place to sleep tonight.
I wonder why we think its OK for our neighbors to be left out in the cold when the rest of us are cocooned inside with the light.