Freezing Time in Memphis
Retirement, they say, means every day is a day off. But somehow, that never quite feels true. Still, when snow covers the Mid-South and the city shuts down, even I give myself permission to pause. Today is one of those rare Memphis snow days—an unexpected gift wrapped in white.
The pond in my backyard has frozen over. It only took a few days of this Arctic blast to seal it in ice. The scene outside is still, quiet, and serene—like time itself has stopped. I’ve spent hours just gazing out the window, hunkered down in a blanket, letting the stillness wash over me.
I’m under the weather again—another “cold-like” something making its rounds. It may be just a cold. Could be something else. But whatever it is, it’s met with NyQuil, hot tea, soup, a fire in the fireplace, and the constant presence of my loving wife. Even in sickness, I’m reminded how blessed I am.
When I say time is frozen in Memphis, I mean it in more ways than one. Sure, the ground is literally frozen, but there’s something else too—life itself slows to a crawl. We Southerners aren’t built for snow. We don’t have plows and salt trucks on every corner. And honestly? I’m glad. Why would we rush to scrape away something so beautiful?
Let the world pause. Let the snow rest gently on the branches a little longer. Let us, just for a day, stop trying to outrun time and instead simply be.
Today, I’ll lean into that quiet. I’ll try to get a little better, because there’s still so much I want to do—even in retirement. Especially spending time with my grandchildren, the best humans I know.
And to you, dear reader—I hope you’re warm. I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re with someone you love. And if you’re not, I hope you soon will be. I hope your pantry has enough, your heart has a little peace, and your day allows for at least one deep breath of stillness.
Above all, I hope you choose joy.
Because joy is always a choice—even when life feels heavy, or cold, or uncertain. We’ve all had those moments when the world seems to press down with all its weight. But even in that pressure, even in pain, you can choose joy. You can choose hope.
Today, I’m choosing both.
And for now, I’m choosing to enjoy the snow day.
Life will come knocking soon enough.
