I like Christmas as much as the next person.
I like gloves and hats and scarves.
Mugs of warm drinks, fireplaces, blankets, and whatnot.
Regardless, I despise winter as a whole. If we could just stay in fall forever and ever- switch to spring if we absolutely must, I would be entirely content.
Okay, I get that. I appreciate its prettiness. But couldn’t it just be pretty?
My Dad’s worked for the Department of Transportation for years. People like to joke about “cushy” State jobs, but his is anything but. Would you like to risk your life at absurd hours in exchange for helping people who can’t even have the decency to be grateful? Pennsylvanians love PennDOT jokes, yet I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone say “Hey, thanks for what you do out there” to any of these guys.
I remember a time in elementary school when my class was assigned “White Christmas” for the annual holiday concert. I’ve been performing for years- I wanted desperately to enjoy the concert. Yet, more difficult than my then-crippling stage fright, was the guilt I felt at this song. A white Christmas means Dad won’t be home. I can’t dream of that!
So, my hatred of winter grew at a pretty young age. Even now, when the absence is pretty perpetual on my part, I can’t bring myself to enjoy winter weather. I’m far too uncoordinated to venture out in the slush and ice- I’m eternally grateful to campus facilities for clearing the sidewalks; otherwise, I’d never be in class! Joint pain nears unbearable when it’s snowy or haily or icy or sleety outside.
Right now, it’s 41 degrees Fahrenheit and it’s as if summer’s arrived. I’m pretty ecstatic, really. That is, except for the eight inches of snow that fell yesterday, and next Saturday’s forecast for more.
So it’s true, despite its extreme romanticization, I cannot bring myself to like snow or winter, subsequently. Instead, I’m off to enjoy War and Peace with a coffee and warm blankets- the silver linings of this seemingly eternal state of icy destruction.