One year ago, winter stopped by as a guest and far wore out its welcome. It was charming, playful, and when really confronted, frigid. Whining, sobbing, putting its cold fingers on my abdomen, it was next to me in bed, breathing through noisy nostrils, as I wished to myself I had never brought it back to my apartment.
People were starting to stare at me every time I left my place, because all you would hear when I was out was banging.
“Nature does not ever have bad weather,” I touted around. Utterly blithe, utterly stupid, in the middle of summer I was still saying this completely drenched from a rainstorm. In an absolute sense, I was right. But no one cared about absolutes because they were untouchable.
I realized this, a year later. I have stopped groping around and left.
In some cultures there exists the symbolic custom to eat lentils before the start of the New Year. On the Eve of this New Year, we eat lentils to represent not tears, but prosperity.