Temperatures are rising. Snow is melting. Statues at a nearby shrine are emerging from winter’s grip.
The relief goes beyond weather. My health is back on track. I’ve recovered from a pinched nerve. The ailment was triggered by shoveling massive amounts of snow. And I’ve gotten over a bout with the flu.
Get this: I was hoping for another two inches of snowfall. Sound crazy? One more storm—a teenie-weenie one—would break the record for the snowiest winter in history for this region. Last Saturday my hope was realized. The record was broken.
People take comfort—or cold comfort in this case—by knowing their suffering was part of something historical.
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