A Winter That Feels Familiar

It has been snowing endlessly. The snowbanks are already as high as they usually are at the very end of winter—late March, when we start wondering if spring will ever come. And yet, here we are in early January. Still snowing. Still falling, day after day.

All through December, not a single day passed without snow. Even now, it keeps coming. This kind of winter feels familiar, almost like something from another time. The kind of winter many of us remember from years ago.

At the Turn of the Year

I worked right through those snowy days until yesterday—January 1st—since I had Christmas off. Today I’m home, and tomorrow I’ll be back at work for the weekend. By next week, everything will return to its usual routine.

Yesterday, while charting, I caught myself writing “December 2025.” I had to stop and laugh—oh no, not December anymore. January 2026. It always takes a little while for the year to settle into our hands. Those small mistakes feel like a gentle reminder that time moves on, whether we’re ready or not.

No Resolutions, Only Continuations

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions anymore. I’ve learned that I prefer something quieter.

I want to keep writing—this blog, my physical journal—so my thoughts have somewhere to land. I also want to organize my photos and videos. Google Photos keeps reminding me to upgrade my storage, and they’re not wrong. I know I have duplicates—doubles and triples—sitting in my one-terabyte hard drive, which is already more than half full.

Organizing them feels like more than just housekeeping. It feels like clearing space in my mind, so I can move forward into 2026 feeling lighter and more focused.

When Snow Brings Back Childhood

This morning, the snow removal company emailed us again. Another 20 to 40 centimeters of snow is expected this weekend.

At work, many of the older adults I care for have been saying the same thing: it’s snowing like the old days. Like the winters they remember from childhood—long, heavy, and unforgettable. Hearing that makes this winter feel shared, like we’re all remembering something together.

A Day Spent at Home

Since I’m off today, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying in and letting the day unfold slowly.

I made a rich hot chocolate and poured it into my favorite mug. At first, it was too hot to drink. Steam rose into the air, and I just sat there watching it for a moment. I even took a few photos and short videos for the blog while I waited for it to cool.

Hot Chocolate and Small Comforts

Now it’s perfect. Warm, creamy, and comforting. Sipping it slowly while the world outside stays white and quiet feels like exactly what this day needs.

The mug itself was introduced to me by my work partner last year. It’s stainless steel and thermal—practical and well-made. She loves statement shirts and special little things, and she has such a warm, lovely personality. Every time I use this mug, I think of her.

Winter Music for the Soul

The Nutcracker piano version has become my winter music. It brings me warmth, comfort, and a sense of peace. The video is nearly finished now, and I already feel calmer for having listened.

A Sheltered Afternoon

I look outside and feel sheltered. Inside my small, cozy home, I’m sitting at a simple workstation on the coffee table—my mouse and speakers neatly placed, my monitor balanced carefully, my mini PC tucked behind it, resting on an outdoor footstool repurposed for winter use. Nothing fancy, but it works.

Closing Thoughts: Grateful to Be Here

More than anything, I feel grateful. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to hear beautiful music, to enjoy a warm drink, and to watch the snow fall from a place of safety and comfort. This is how I’m beginning 2026—quietly, thoughtfully, and with appreciation for the small things.

Young Mee
January 2, 2026 — 3:30 PM