We arrived and knew we would be at this destination much longer than originally anticipated.
Every morning I would wake, lie in bed and check the road map – much like a child with Christmas morning excitement – hoping the roads would have cleared enough for a journey to a different landscape, only to discover that ‘Santa had not yet arrived.’
The Icelandic way, or so I’ve been told, is to just wait. Wait for the weather, wait to do what needs to be done, wait. It will get done.
But the desire to explore does not wait.
Fixated on my aggravation at the uncontrollable, my mindset was impatient, unwilling accept that we were ‘stuck.’ We would drive. Drive until we could no longer see the road in front of us. Drive until we were told to turn around. Drive to each end of the map, reluctantly turning back to retrace our tracks – consistently returning to the same places – our starting point.
My frustrated state stayed, tired of experiencing the same landscape repeatedly. The snow had hidden this otherworldly environment with which I was attempting to become familiar.
Waiting became a necessary evil.
We must wait. The time will come.
In this state of waiting, a sort of consciousness was gained.
I may have been at the same point physically, but the view had altered.
The landscape had already shifted.
Winter has arrived.