Winter in My Bones

Shanghai FEELS cold during these wet winter days. Much colder than the thermometer declares. It’s as if winter here is an inside-out affair. Starting in my bones, spreading icily throughout my body before creeping into the surrounding air. Makes me wonder if I am Old Man Winter. The chill maker himself.

Growing up in Vermont, I’m not unused to cold. But there the weather was outside. The cold was something that could be fought against with layers of clothing and a wood-burning stove. Sure, the cold was sometimes was so severe it assaulted my bones, but that was only when it was especially bitter and pushed through the layers with heavy winds. It creeped up slowly while waiting for the bus and could be slowed by stomping my feet or swinging my arms in circles or running away from the bus stop bully. There was always something I could do to fight it.

But sitting here with winter in my bones there seems no recourse. I’m not just cold, I AM the cold.

Be well,

Monty

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