Winter and I have never been friends, but this year we grew to understand each other a bit more. While we are still enemies, of a sort, when the death throes of the season began this week, I felt mildly saddened. I will not mourn winter as I relish in the blushing petals of the cherry blossoms that grow everywhere and the daffodils as they spring from mulch and mud to greet the sun. But I will feel a twinge of sadness as I recall the fresh scent of newly fallen snow and the quiet hush of the world when everyone is home on a snowday and I get the roads all to myself.
This last winter, I began my shadow work. It has been a rough ride at times, easier at others. Much of it deals with my relationship with Persephone, too, a topic that I will write on more tomorrow, my first anniversary of working with the goddess.
It is time to take the armor off, even as snow still piles in the parking lot and icicles trickle on the eaves. Time to relax and wash away the sins I faced in myself these last three months, the ones I have accepted and learned from. Time to pack them away in memento boxes to remind myself of what I am, what I want to be, and what I can be.