The thermometer in my car has not read higher than 8 degrees since Sunday. My mornings have been consumed by weather in ways I can’t remember acknowledging before. Typically I get ready for work and leave my house with few moments of staying present. I am quick to dress and pour coffee in my to-go cup. I am quick to strap up my boots and get to my car. I am quick to turn off lights and lock the door behind me. Everything about my mornings is centered on quickness. But this week has been abnormal. The cold weather has found me procrastinating what I should be focused on, looking for excuses to stay inside. Three consecutive mornings I found myself on the couch with my coffee, savoring a few moments of morning silence. Once I caught myself looking at my boots on the rug, thinking that the salt stains add a chapter of intimacy to their story; the weather they have encountered has heightened their awareness of inner-strength. I have slowed my morning routine just enough to notice my mother’s reflection in my eyes as I’m applying make-up. I have also recognized it is a personal challenge to slow my pace. My natural speed is not lackadaisical. But in taking hold of these small moments to shift from drive to neutral, I have discovered another layer of my day I didn’t have before. A sweet and salty layer that belongs to only me.