The Cold Is My Shield

“There was an odd comfort in the cold, as if it were a shield.”

I spend a lot of time reflecting on the “whys” of life. They are critical to understanding, to learning, to growing. And if there’s one thing I can take away from this isolating year, it’s that I’ve learned a lot about myself and why I tend to focus on certain aspects of who I am. So, when I came across the sentence above in the book I’m currently reading—”The Dragon Reborn” (book 3) from the Wheel of Time series, by Robert Jordan—it immediately jumped out at me, not for its lyricism or its cleverness or even its import to the story, but for the underlying meaning within the context of my life.

In the cold.

The cold.

Cold.

Not exactly a word that stirs up happiness or warmth or comfort, is it? Just say it out loud to yourself right now …

Cold.

It’s an abrupt, harsh, cold, one-syllable word that makes you think of something sinister, aloof, dark, deep, heavy, cloudy, wintery, snowy. You never really think of it as a light, positive, joyful word. And certainly not as a shield against anything. But when I read that line this morning, I said to myself, OMG, yes, the cold is my shield! I’ve never thought about it that way before but suddenly it epitomized why I adore and so desperately yearn for this time of year (the October through January time frame). The time of year when the crisp winds of autumn begin to swirl so lovingly around me, invigorating me, inspiring me, concealing me with her big, bold, beautiful colors before slowly passing me off into winter’s warm (yes, warm) embrace.

I’ve never really been able to pinpoint exactly what it is about these seasons that I love so much. I usually chalk it up to my obsession with all things holiday, my family’s traditions, and the overall festive feel of the season, a season that never fails to conjure up my most wonderful childhood memories. But it dawned on me with such clarity this morning that maybe the real reason I’m so enamored with this time of year is the cold and the shelter (the shield) it provides against the harsh—or harsher—realities of life.

When it’s cold outside, you don’t need a reason for not venturing out into the below-freezing temperatures or traveling along the snowy, icy roads. You don’t need an excuse to don your reindeer pajamas and your heavy-duty Polar Express socks and spend all weekend sipping hot cocoa, devouring sugar balls, and binge-watching Christmas movies on Hallmark. No one wants to be outside freezing their face or their butt off. We all want to be inside where it’s homey and soothing and safe. We talk about being shielded from the cold, but what if the cold IS the shield, forcing us inside and protecting us from what’s out there.

I think these thoughts are at the forefront of my mind today because of the havoc and misery and indecisiveness brought on by the current state of the world. Not to mention my personal anxieties about COVID-19 exposure, and my constant worry that everyone is judging us for choosing not to partake in certain aspects of life right now. So much has happened in 2020 that I want to escape, that I long to be protected from. I realize distraction and the act of running away from those things that haunt or terrify me isn’t exactly the most constructive way of coping, but at this point I think we all need to cut ourselves some slack. We all deserve some TLC after everything we’ve been through since March, and the latitude to seek out and savor the bliss of escape. And what better way of shielding ourselves from the outside world than by burrowing down in the comfy, cozy, quiet warmth of our homes during the dark, cold, snowy, blustery days of the holiday season.

I know what you’re probably thinking: Could this crazy loon of a lady actually be suggesting that we spend more time cooped up in our homes with the same handful of people we’ve been trapped with for the past nine months?! And the answer is, well, YES! Anytime I read the news or venture out into the world these days, it’s a stark reminder that my happiest place on earth is right here, in my home, with my husband and children. We are happy here. We are healthy here. We are safe here. As soon as I walk through that door, a sense of peace comes over me … this overwhelming sense that no one and nothing can harm us as long as we’re here together. It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s there, nonetheless. And for some reason, the searing cold reinforces those heart-warming feelings. There’s just something special about the allure of ancient evenings when the sun sets early, the temperature drops, and it’s dark and quiet all around–inside and out. I know a lot of people hate when dusk falls so early in the evening, but I love being home all snug as a bug in a rug; it does wonderful things for my psyche. Take away the cold, though, and somehow … all that vanishes. At least for me.

I don’t know if anyone else can relate to this or even if I’m describing it accurately. I guess the best I can do is this: When we’re settled inside this cocoon under the soft glow of our brightly twinkling Christmas tree (which will be going up on Nov. 1, by the way), Christmas carols whispering in the background, and it’s frosty cold outside and the bitterly harsh winds of winter are a blowing, that’s my shield. That’s my fortification from the outside world. In those moments, all is right with the universe and nothing else matters except the people sitting beside me. And I can’t think of a better, more appropriate year for my family to hunker down in here, savor every blessed minute of the holidays together, and safeguard ourselves from everything else out there.

One final note: As I was writing this it dawned on me that I might be coming across as an insane recluse who’s terrified to go out in public (LMAO!). That is not the case at all. I find comfort in this “hibernation” every year; it has nothing specifically to do with The Year That Must Not Be Named. But it does take on new meaning for me because of current circumstances. In a (chest)nutshell, I love the cold, I love the holiday season, and I love being home with my family. The difference this year, though, is that now I can fully appreciate the “why.”