Martin Luther King, Jr. Day: seen through snow

Today was an abrupt cold snap-- the kind of cold that reminds me of agonizingly chilly walks to class in central New York. I can't believe that it took me two Hamilton winters and a bout of pneumonia before I learned the virtues of buying a Siberia-level winter coat.

The Colorado cold is much more merciful-- desert air can't cut straight through you the same way out here-- but unfortunately, it's currently seeping through the thin glass of my windows and making my apartment into 700sq feet of popsicle. I'm happily buried under an afghan and a quilt on my couch, wearing pajamas, reading glasses, chapstick that smells like summer and a hoodie that has accompanied me for eight years of memories.

It's Martin Luther King Jr. day, which seemed like an appropriate day to start writing a long-overdue letter to Charles Moore-- the photographer who famously captured MLK (and most of the 60s) in black and white, hard-hitting truth. He was an incredible photographer, and I feel very grateful to have been able to spend an absurd percentage of my savings on one of his original pieces. Mr. Moore is very old and sick, but he and his wife spent their last years protecting the rights of his photographs so they could be sold for a fraction of the tens of thousands of dollars they will go for in the next few years. Even if he is too ill to understand a letter from a twenty-something in Colorado, I hope he knows what a gift that was to people like me who feel like they literally have a piece of history in their home.

Mmm. Home.
Few things are more beautiful to my ears than the sound keys make when they're tossed on the kitchen counter-- that familiar tinkle of metal and plastic that sounds *undeniably* like coming home.

I love days like this, the ones that are very quiet, and very cold. There is something so meaningful to me about bundling up, disappearing with a book and a few loads of laundry, and glancing up every few pages to just get lost in thought.
I don't know who I'd be without quiet, cold days. If it was mid-July, I wouldn't have stayed up until 1:30 last night snuggled into my bed enjoying the **heated mattress pad** Brian bought me for Christmas (oh MAN. for a cold, cold girl, that is quite an amazing present)... reading a book about Mr. Rogers' life philosophies until I fell asleep with the book across my chest. If it was summer, I wouldn't have hidden behind hot chai and scarves all afternoon, reading "The Terror" again, talking about African Pythons with Thaddeus and planning sunny vacations with my family.

At the end of the day-- typing with freezing hands and a cold nose-- I feel very happy and comforted. My friends bring so many wonderful conversations into my daily life... in the past 24 hours, Brian shared a really interesting insight into evolution and physics with me; Meredith and I had a very meaningful conversation about Life, capital L; dad and I stood in the foyer of his house with my shoes dripping ice on the floor as we debated the recession and the way that foreign stock exchanges work; and Parent Dog and I continued swapping funny stories in our attempt to document every funny moment that could ever possibly be written in a book (how else will we ever earn our millions?)
And did I mention the African Pythons that Thad and I talked about for over an hour? And hippos. Oh lord, the amazing life of hippos.

Mr. Rogers (YES, Mr. Rogers... he AND Dr. King are my heroes because a girl can have more than one love in her life) has a lot of truly lovely thoughts about gratifying ways to live and share one's life. One of his most persistent points throughout his work and writing was to simply seek to find the best in people. I think if we all reminded ourselves of the meaningful conversations that could be had between ourselves and the "other guy"-- the mean boss, the parking ticket officer, the annoying little kid in the waiting room-- if we stopped more to remember that the other people in our daily life are real, and interesting, and have life experiences that we could benefit from... it could truly cut down on the amount of negativity in our daily lives.

And sentimentality takes over once again.
Must be the cold. It reminds me of my college days, you see...

It's almost time to start the week. I can feel my script, the gym, the uncooked food in my fridge, the laundry in the dryer and unfinished letters waiting for me.

These things would be much less pleasant to face without a "warm preheat" setting on my bed awaiting me.
In this lifetime, Warmth can literally make all the difference.
And I truly believe that.