So Long Winter


Dear Winter,

You are truly beautiful, glistening and sparkling white. The streets are quiet and the neighborhood is hushed with your new fallen snow. It’s a snow globe world out there, a sight to behold. Unfortunately, I no longer love you the same way I have loved you. Things just aren’t the same between us.

You are too cold. I glance at the snow bank outside my window and see the possibilities of an amazing snow fort the same way the Property Brothers see hidden potential in every fixer upper they renovate. My son and I haven’t built a single snowman this winter and the snow bank remains untouched. There is no fort with a form fitting snow chair and mini ice box for storing treats. I thought we had at least one last winter together playing in the snow. Now you are simply a big pile of snow that I can’t even throw the snow over when I shovel. My shoulders ache along with my back.

You are unpredictable. I’m no longer happy when I wake up to negative temperatures and wait for the school notification of another cancellation due to dangerously cold temperatures. If you don’t see fit to cancel school, you don’t mind canceling recess. After a week of indoor recesses, even Cosmic Kids Yoga is beginning to lose its appeal. My kindergarteners want out! So does their teacher! I won’t even bring up how my two dogs feel about being trapped after day.

You are selfish. You’ve interfered long enough with my fitness plan and love of running outdoors in the cool, crisp air. You make me wear so many layers running is uncomfortable and impossible. The icy dangers lurking below the fresh layer of flakes make loving you a challenge. I don’t have enough sick days accumulated to break any bones should I slip and fall. Don’t even mention the word treadmill. It’s the great outdoors I crave. You know, the sunshine on my shoulders and the wind beneath my wings.

You take too much for granted. I’ve made every pot of soup imaginable to soothe and comfort my stir crazy family and get the chill out of our bones. The freezer, once full of fresh fruits and vegetables from my CSA boxes, is depleted. I do not appreciate your indifference toward the huge amount of picking, cleaning, coring, slicing, dicing, boiling, flash freezing, and bagging it took to fill the freezer.

So, please dear Winter, pack up and move along. I don’t love you any more. I’m ready to meet someone new. Someone with a milder disposition and a sunny smile.

Yours truly,
A former lover