Baby, It's Cold Outside

It is C-O-L-D. So cold that when you open the door the entire house becomes chilly, stand near a window and you can feel the frigid air trying to squeeze through, go outside and your fingers are numb before you open the car door. So cold that our mailbox is frozen open, our sliding door fights against you trying to stay closed, that Otis comes back in when I call him. It is literally freezing outside.
It makes me think, while I am curled up on the couch wearing my fuzzy robe and clutching my hot cup of coffee, about how in August I welcomed the cool air September promised. How in October I longed for snow and sleds. That the first snow on Lucy's birth day was happily welcomed by my wishful eyes. I love the winter, the snow, the fun it promises. I just hate the bitter cold Chicagoland has to offer. The snow can't come alone, it must travel with below zero temps and my arch nemesis, the wind chill factor. I long for an area that has the perfect amount of snow for sledding and skiing, enough cold to freeze over a pond and make that morning cup of joe warm me and my hands to the perfect temperature. I want the sun to shimmer over our white lawn and provide warmth not just an illusion, I want to be able to complete a snowman without getting frostbite, I want to skate without wearing two pairs of socks.
Unfortunately, I chose to live in a seasonal area where this will never be possible. I am destine to yearn for winter in the sweltering days of August and dream about sunshine and swimming pools in January. Though I suppose I could trade in my snowshoes for sandals and move some place perpetually autumnal (by far my favorite of the Midwestern seasons) I could never do that to my children. Experiencing the wide range of Chicagoland weather builds character, it helps you appreciate mother nature, and it teaches you patience. Besides, our family is here and as desperate as I am to live in Fiji every winter I could never give up the holidays with our family, snow mountains in our yard, or Rumple Mintz in my hot cocoa.