Grieving without a discrete event to organize around is confusing. The sheer ongoingness of this pandemic winter means we are in constant and nebulous mourning. Our condition feels chronic. But if having a chronic condition teaches me anything, it’s that when you can’t find the thread of what works, adopt extreme gentleness. Meet this moment with an inartful but deep truth: This sucks, and I love you.

This is the gift of winter: The spare sleeping earth quiets the noise and lets us tune into those resounding yeses. We begin to notice where we encounter that small spark, how we listen, and what we want to invite into our lives.