It’s another cold day here on the Shoreline.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the summertime, but I welcome the billowing winds, the sparkling snowdrifts and the chill in the air over the raw, wet rainfall of a mild winter any day. At least when it is cold and dry out, I can take walks outside. The vapor of my breath and the soft sting in my lungs are met with the apricity of wintertime’s afternoon sun, and I’m grateful to be out here—if only just for a little while.

It’s the quiet regard of the stillness around me that invites me to consider my thoughts. I seldom have the chance to visit them anymore. With so much to take into account, my own internal musings have become somewhat of a stranger that I only get to visit on the mornings I wake up before the day begins.

Identity is a funny thing, because as much as we are part of the things that we do in a day, we are more so who we are on the inside when our obligations take a sidebar. It’s this part of me that I’m eager to connect with in the rare moments that the rest of the world stops, and it’s nothing else out here except my feet on the concrete.

One of my biggest fears is the threat of losing myself in the racket of life. I have had to sacrifice my dreams, goals and aspirations for years in order to hold space for the facets of me that take precedent. On paper, I have a corporate career I’ve worked hard to earn, a home I’ve poured my heart into, and a daughter who it is a privilege to raise. I am proud of all these pieces of me. On the inside, though, I feel like I am crying out to be Kristi—not just a working mom.

The sunshine pours down, and the winter cold is biting. As brutal as the 8-degree weather feels, at least I’m by myself out here.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for my life. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I love my little nook of the world that I’ve whittled out through the years for my daughter and I. The fact of the matter is, though: mothering is the most beautiful yet equally painstaking job a woman can ever have.

It’s not enough that we, as women, bear our own personal struggles and misgivings about our place in the world. For most of us, we are constantly trying to discern our sense of belonging and the futility of worry in between life’s fleeting moments. Add to that, a mother’s job of informing our children’s views of the world, and how they see themselves n it. It’s so much harder than you think, and no one tells you about it until you’re right there in it.

I will admit that I push my personal aspirations aside to shepherd my daughter’s dreams and her sense of vocation. Of the many evenings I could spend writing or on the mats with my Jiu-Jitsu community, I have committed much of this time instead to supporting her dreams of being an equestrian, and her other miscellaneous extracurriculars. Even on days like these, where the wind is so brisk it feels like it will bite my nose off, I don’t miss a beat.

It’s an honor to watch my daughter become a young woman. Truly, it is one of the most beautiful experiences I have ever witnessed. My hope in being her parent is that I can support and encourage her the same way I wish I could have been at her age. It is a painstaking venture though, because almost every night when the house is still a mess and I feel like I haven’t had a moment to breathe, I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror and ask myself, “Where is Kristi?”

The wind howls in my ears. I have a Zoom call that’s starting in twelve minutes, but it feels like I still have all the time in the world. Right now, I am a single flame out here in the cold, and it’s hard to imagine that in less than twelve minutes, I will be smoldering in front of a computer screen.

I don’t have all the answers. All I know how to do is rise to the occasion the best that I can. To find myself in the little moments. To take solace in the walks outside, in front of the kitchen stove, or on a twenty minute drive.

These days are fleeting, and the truth is that I will never be again who I am right now. The best I can do is lean into the current and listen to the wind blow. When it comes to dreaming, there’s time for that. I know that somewhere in my life, I’ll find myself in the world where I want to be. I’ll be able to look into the mirror one day and say, “There she is” to my heart’s content.

I approach my front door, for my walk has come to an end. My face is flushed and windswept, eager for the promise of warmth just inside. My time alone may be coming to a close, but for now: I am still a woman with a hard-earned career, a home that I love, and the most most amazing daughter in the world.

That’s the sound of my Winter. That’s how I live now.