Every year in New England
Someone asks me, "Have
you been through one of

the winters yet?" I re-
member the way every year
in Indiana the world

would turn ice for months,
the way that snow would
block the roads and stop

school and kill the power
in our little house sur-
rounded by farms for

weeks at a time and we
would live our lives by
candlelight and pumped

water. We would fill the
bathtub and from it the
toilet tank so we could

flush. I remember summers
spent mostly hiding in AC
from the murderous sun

and partly hiding in base-
ments from the murderous
wind. I remember when the

weather hated me and wan-
ted me dead, but also
remember the way that ice

turned the world to beauty
and glass and wonder, the
way that bathwater thun-

derstorms would wet clothes
to a perfect temperature
that left them feeling like

merely more skin. "Yes
I have been through the
winters before. Thanks for