A.S. Thorne

Texas did not ask for this.

Yet here we are—three days iced in, roads looking like a nope, and the entire state collectively side-eyeing the weather like, Ma’am, who invited you?

And listen… being stuck at home is not always the cozy montage social media pretends it is. Sometimes it’s cabin fever in sweatpants. Sometimes it’s staring out the window like a Victorian child waiting for the plague to pass. Sometimes it’s realizing your patience has frozen faster than the driveway.

But—and stay with me here—there’s a strange, sparkly audacity to this cold.

Ice turns ordinary things dramatic.
Trees? Suddenly iced-out runway models.
Sidewalks? Absolutely not.
The world slows down whether we consent or not—and honestly? That kind of forced boundary is a little iconic.

Cold has a way of stripping life down to the basics:
Stay home.
Stay warm.
Drink something hot—you know I’m on my third cup of coffee (at least).
Stop pretending you need to do everything right now.

And there’s beauty in that—not the soft, poetic kind (okay, also that), but the real kind. The kind that says: You don’t have to be productive to be worthy. The kind that gives your nervous system a snow day and your inbox a firm “not today, Satan.”

The quiet is loud in the best way.
No traffic hum.
No constant go-go-go.
Just the crackle of ice and the rare permission to exist without performing.

So yes, winter in Texas is inconvenient. It’s chaotic. It’s wildly out of character.

But it’s also a reminder that even here—even in a place built for heat and hurry—we can pause. We can rest. We can find beauty in a season that didn’t ask our opinion.

And if nothing else, we can respect the ice for its commitment to boundaries.

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If you’re stuck, stir-crazy, or one minor inconvenience away from losing it—this is your sign to stop fighting the pause. Wrap up. Sip something warm. Let the world stay quiet a little longer. Winter will leave eventually. Until then? We might as well admire the audacity.

🖤 A.S. Thorne