Teeth, Love, and Growing Up

In recent weeks, temperatures have finally plummeted as wind and snow swirl on the roads and in the forests. The sun makes an appearance for 5 hours each day, tracing a short, low arc across the horizon before re-entering its 19-hour slumber. Daylight in December became a perpetual sunrise-sunset; the sun so low in the sky I can almost look at it with the naked eye, the city awash in golden hour, the sky pink-tinged.  For the most part, though, I live in an eternal night. The darkness is pervasive, consistent, a constant companion. It’s a time for rest, hibernation, and rejuvenation. After the semester ended I spent my days inside, catching up on all the slow activities I didn’t have time to do during these first frantic months in Finland. Cooking, baking, knitting, painting, listening to music, podcasts.  Spending winter break freely and peacefully ...

I ’m writing as I sip on a strong latte at 1369 Coffee Shop in Central Square, admiring the snow fall outside and feeling the shock of the cold air each time the door opens and closes. As frigid temperatures have slid into the Northeast over the past month, life has felt numbed. A physical numbness spread from my nose to my chin, as I brave the headwinds on Comm Ave during my walks home from work. A mental numbness burrowed behind my eyes, as I type run-on sentences with disappointment that my writing skills have atrophied. A spiritual numbness sprawled across my chest, as I sit on my meditation cushion searching for a connection with myself that I can no longer access. This morning, as I peer at the glowing faces filling the coffee shop and scan the community board that showcases hundreds of local events and support groups and services, I feel a familiar sadness: a grief for college. It’s been two and a half years since we graduated, and while I long ago accepted the reality that I’m ...