How it feels matters, too – even in winter

This morning in Noblesville, the thermometer told a simple story: it was about -6°F outside. But the moment I stepped out my front door, reality whispered something different: more like -14°F against my face and fingers.

That’s the magic (or mischief) of winter “feels like” temperatures: they remind us that what something is and what it feels like can be very different.

Meteorologists call this number the “feels like” temperature because it accounts for wind chill: the way wind steals warmth from our skin faster than the thermometer can measure. A gentle breeze makes cold air feel colder, and a brisk one can make familiar winter air downright biting.

In other words, while the official temperature gives us a number, the “feels like” number gives us experience.

I found myself laughing a little at how icy the air felt – not because it was funny in a burst-of-laughter way, but because it was so distinct from the modest number on the weather screen. It got me thinking about how in life we often focus on the “official” version of something: the label, the statistic, the simple fact. But we forget that another person’s felt experience may be something very different.

Photo provided by Pooja Thakkar

Maybe you remember the snowstorms that swept across Indiana a few weeks ago – heavy, shimmering, and breathtaking from the warmth of a window seat. For me, the fresh-fallen snow made me feel both cozy and cautious that day. For some, it inspired joy and play; for others, it meant slippery roads, nervous walks, and anxious planning. The snow didn’t change, but how each of us experienced it did.

That difference – between how things are and how they feel – isn’t just weather lore. It’s a gentle metaphor for community.

We live in places with neighbors who see the same sunset but feel it differently. We sit at the same table, yet come with stories that shape how we dig into the food and conversation. Just as winter has its “feels like” number, our shared life together has unspoken temperatures – emotional, cultural, and personal – that influence how we move through our days.

Recognizing this doesn’t dilute reality. It enriches it. It invites us to listen with care, to ask not just “What is it like?” but “How does it feel for you?” It reminds us that empathy isn’t only about agreeing with everyone’s perspective, but about valuing the diversity of those experiences.

So today, as the cold challenges us to zip up coats and pull on gloves, let it also remind us of a kindness that’s just as essential as staying warm: the willingness to consider how others feel in the same world we share.

In a season that tests our tolerance for cold, maybe it can also teach us warmth of understanding.

“We are more alike than we are different; let us honor each other’s experience as we walk together through every season of life.”

Pooja Thakkar is working to build connections through cuisine. You can read her column each week in the pages of The Reporter.