An ode to the longest winter

This is the longest winter I have ever experienced over the past ten years. It is April, but somehow spring feels so far away. Winters can be quite depressing in this part of the world (the Midwest). But why does the past 3-4 months feel like a year? It makes me wonder.

Climatically, it was a colder winter compared to the previous few winters. There were a lot of snowy days continuing through even March. It was a rarity to see clear blue skies with sunshine. Seasonal depression is real. 

Personally, it could have been the unexpected cancellation of travel plans —something you did not want to, or missing loved ones. The feeling of things being out of your control and the realization that a few powerful people get to decide what goes on in the world. Or the exhaustion of running an entire marathon, when in reality, you’re still stuck at the starting line.

Globally, well – WHAT WAS THAT?! There is just too much going on everywhere, all over the world. I’m one of the privileged ones whose only concern about global affairs is cancelled travel plans, increased gas prices, or just the fact that the everyday news is just too overwhelming. But what about the people who are not so privileged? A handful of politicians and their fragile egos determine if your life can go on as usual or become hell. They decide if you can or cannot live in your home, or if you get to see your children or not, or if you are lucky enough to be alive tomorrow.

Dragging along almost to the finish line of this depressing winter, I decided to write. I write after two years. Three, if you consider the last four months. Usually, I need something to really pull me out of such a long rut. Sometimes it is a conversation, sometimes it is something I see or experience. This time it was because of something I read. A song led me down a Reddit rabbit hole. I learnt about someone who had sadly passed away a few years back—Sneha Belcin, a journalist/writer who cared deeply about many things. A glimpse into her life immediately made it clear that she wrote A LOT. I stumbled across something that she had written about writing.

Particularly, these lines resonated with me a lot.

“Write, for you know you are going to rescue someone from a bad day.

Write for the beautiful words.

Write about the tiniest emotion that passed through you.

……

Write, so that you clear up space to fill yourself with some more imagination.

Write to make someone cry.

Write to let it out.”

These lines reminded me exactly why I started writing when I was 10 years old. I loved to write. I loved letting it out. I loved noticing and documenting the tiniest emotion that passed through me. Thank you, Sneha. Even after your passing, your words have motivated me to write on my blog again. Your words have indeed rescued someone from a bad day. Somewhere along the way, I lost track of myself and thought that I should only write if it was good enough to be written. But this space, this blog, was an extension of my journal. It was meant to have every record of my thoughts, all the scribbles.

So today I write again. I write my winter blues away. I pack all my thoughts into tiny phrases like suitcases and send them out into the universe. Off you go, thoughts.

The air is still cold outside. It seems like nothing much has changed even after a long time has passed. But somewhere beneath all this heaviness, spring must be trying. Quietly. Persistently. Tiny shoots of grass and flower buds will be out very soon and remind us that, however bad things may seem, you can always, always, begin again. Just like how
I decided to write again.

Here’s bidding farewell to the longest winter, which was more of a feeling than a season, and welcoming spring with renewed hope.