Love

I used to hate Valentine's Day.

But that was when I was young and foolish and thought love was about roses and chocolates and declarations.

When I thought love was about deception and heartache and never enough.

How liberating it is to understand that the degree to which we feel loved is the mirror image of how much we love ourselves.

Today I celebrate all that I love. And the love I'm blessed to receive.

Snow

The first real snowstorm of the year conjures memories that I think are mine alone.

And they're not.

The smell of wet wool and hot chocolate...frozen cheeks and and ice-crusted mittens...mummy-like snowsuits, hand-me-down sleds, too-big rubber boots packed with slush, caves dug into mountainous drifts...turns out these experiences were shared by countless others.

How disappointing to know my childhood wasn't so unique.

How reassuring to know this: my mom wasn't the only mom who warmed you up with Campbell's tomato soup, made you put on your still-soggy mittens, and sent you back outside to play until you lost all feeling in your extremities!