An unsettled winter

I love snow. I really do. I love snow and cold and fierce winters and snow days and drinking hot chocolate when the winter wind is howling outside my window. Having said that, I must admit that this winter's weather has wreaked havoc on my classes, leaving me feeling behind before we've even really started, trying to develop some kind of rhythm with my classes and studying. It's my understanding that Yale has never closed for snow in its 310-year history, yet we've had one full snow day and another half day called by the dean, even though random professors held class anyway (not mine!). And here we are, already at a reading week, and boy, do I have a lot of reading to catch up on. In addition to all the textbook reading, there's one other book that has to be read so that I can write a report. Between that and Hebrew studying, that might be all I manage.

So loving snow and loving ice are two different things. Ice is beautiful and all but very dangerous. Adding to my lack of rhythm and disorientation is a mild concussion I sustained falling on the ice in the driveway last Sunday. It's such an odd, not-quite-right feeling accompanied by persistent headaches. I don't know how football players get back out on the field, and they have the serious concussions! I still have quite a knot on the back of my head, but they assured me that the CT scan showed no damage, so I guess I just have to wait this one out.

And then there's Boudreau, the million-dollar dog, who tore his ACL and had to have a very serious and expensive surgery to put a metal plate in his leg to hold things together. The recovery period is 8-10 weeks. Try convincing him two weeks in that he's not fine. He wants to play and run in the snow and wrestle with Satchel, but is on the DL for now. My niece, Lela, has been a wonderful nursemaid to him, and now that she's off auditioning in Michigan and North Carolina and Tim's away on business, I get to nursemaid him for a while. It's been quite an unsettling experience, not just because I love my dogs to pieces, but because Boudreau and Seth were particularly close, so I take care of him, too, on behalf of Seth. Such a swirl of emotions this has brought on, amplified by the approach of the second anniversary of Seth's death this coming week. I went to visit his grave today, shoveling a path and clearing snow from the headstone. I'll go again on the 9th to place a new wreath there. I wonder if this ever gets any easier?

I can say that the grief is eased by the love of Seth's friends, as I've said here before. I had brunch today with a few of his 'girlfriends' who have grown into such lovely, kind young women. One of their reminiscences was about senior week after high school graduation when Seth stayed not in the house with the guys but with his girls. They had a reunion week a few years afterward, and he almost got arrested for skinny-dipping in the ocean at night. At least none of their stories surprised me - Seth was pretty forthcoming with me about his exploits! He's such an integral part of their memories and their lives together as a group of friends. I'm so glad to be included in gatherings with them, especially as the anniversary approaches. So thank you Kimmie, Ricki, Amanda, Jannette and Sari!