The Search for a Lost Self in the Far North — Sallie Tisdale

Tall tales abound in the north. There is one about the winter when it was so cold everyone’s shadow froze to the ground; people walked around without one for the rest of the season, unsure where the sun was. Another winter froze the snowflakes in the sky; they hung there, in the way, for weeks. There are several tales about a winter so cold that words freeze. Arguments are never won; jokes go unfinished. Entire stories are lost in the branches and the rafters; hanging there like icicles. What confusion when the shadows thaw and the questions melt—what a surprise when you finally hear the punchline in the spring.