Ashes in the Light

There’s something about cold weather that slows everything down—like the world is gently telling me to pause, to breathe. The crisp air wraps around me like a quiet reminder to stay present.

I remember my last winter vacation to Europe, especially that evening boat ride in Budapest. The city lights shimmered, so beautiful it almost didn’t feel real. But the cold wind—it hit my face with a sharpness that made me pull my coat tighter and tuck my hands deep into my pockets. In that moment, even surrounded by beauty, I missed home.

Cold weather does that sometimes—it makes you feel deeply. The coziness of warm drinks and soft sweaters, yes, but also the sudden ache of memories, of people, of places you long to return to.

It’s not always comforting, but maybe that’s what makes it honest. The cold has a way of stripping things back, slowing you down, and making space for quiet reflection. And I think I’m learning to be okay with that.