Winter is for Schmucks
This morning on NPR, I heard a story about a place "so cold that hot tea tossed in the air will freeze, then snow down in tiny crystals."
And this afternoon, a coworker forwarded a picture sent to him from relatives in Maryland. Snow covered everything. The bottom few inches of black tire on a minivan peeked out from underneath a blanket of white. A skinny lamp-post wore a winter-white hat. Tree branches strained under the weight of all that depressing powder. It was dismal, nearly black and white, although the photo was taken in color. His email said, "I miss the snow."
Are you kidding me?
My knuckles are cracked, two of them bleeding for lotion, the skin around my cuticles is red and puffy. Lips, chapped. Elbows, dry. Nose, running. Fingers cold and shriveled such that I can fiddle with my rings, turn them around and around my fingers, miss them, startle.
Kleenex. Chapstick. Extra time to warm up the car. Driving on the inevitable, albeit ridiculous, "ice day."
And all these clothes. Shirt, sweater, jacket, scarf, gloves, socks. Layers. Shoes that must be tended to: lace them, strap them, buckle them. All with my cold and fumbling, aching fingers. But in summer - I yearn for the simplicity of summer. Summer dress: top, bottom, and slip-on sandals. Voila.
Summer! Sunny, bright, crisp. Hot. Beautiful days that you can see right through. Outside. Ice cream. Popsicles. Swimming pool. Long days. Daylight. Watermelon. Bottled water. Wonderful summer. Six months from now, it will be August 13th and many will be longing for cooler weather. I will not.
I will perspire and drink water and play outside. Sit in the shade, put on sunscreen, wear a hat. Inhale the fresh cut grass and walk in it, barefooted. I will welcome the sweat that comes to cleanse my body: my upper lip, the nape of my neck, the back of my knees, the small of my back, my arm pits.
I live in Texas. I imagine that I probably have no idea what Cold really is. But that suits me just fine.
And this afternoon, a coworker forwarded a picture sent to him from relatives in Maryland. Snow covered everything. The bottom few inches of black tire on a minivan peeked out from underneath a blanket of white. A skinny lamp-post wore a winter-white hat. Tree branches strained under the weight of all that depressing powder. It was dismal, nearly black and white, although the photo was taken in color. His email said, "I miss the snow."
Are you kidding me?
My knuckles are cracked, two of them bleeding for lotion, the skin around my cuticles is red and puffy. Lips, chapped. Elbows, dry. Nose, running. Fingers cold and shriveled such that I can fiddle with my rings, turn them around and around my fingers, miss them, startle.
Kleenex. Chapstick. Extra time to warm up the car. Driving on the inevitable, albeit ridiculous, "ice day."
And all these clothes. Shirt, sweater, jacket, scarf, gloves, socks. Layers. Shoes that must be tended to: lace them, strap them, buckle them. All with my cold and fumbling, aching fingers. But in summer - I yearn for the simplicity of summer. Summer dress: top, bottom, and slip-on sandals. Voila.
Summer! Sunny, bright, crisp. Hot. Beautiful days that you can see right through. Outside. Ice cream. Popsicles. Swimming pool. Long days. Daylight. Watermelon. Bottled water. Wonderful summer. Six months from now, it will be August 13th and many will be longing for cooler weather. I will not.
I will perspire and drink water and play outside. Sit in the shade, put on sunscreen, wear a hat. Inhale the fresh cut grass and walk in it, barefooted. I will welcome the sweat that comes to cleanse my body: my upper lip, the nape of my neck, the back of my knees, the small of my back, my arm pits.
I live in Texas. I imagine that I probably have no idea what Cold really is. But that suits me just fine.
Comments
I think having a sweetie in the wintertime makes it all worth it... who wants to cuddle when you're all hot and sweaty in the summertime?!? GROSS!