an open letter

Dear Winter:

It's time you know my true feelings. I can no longer hide them under the guise of being a hearty Minnesotan.

Here's how I see it: you show up at the end of every fall, all Currier and Ives, charming and quiet and gentle. You gently coat the world around me with white marshmallow-fluff snowcaps. You charm me with sleigh bells and warm evenings nestled inside under a blanket with hot drinks and merrymaking.

You even lure me out into your icy grasp for New Years Eve. Every year, you sweet-talk me into thinking this year will be different. You'll be mild. You'll let me wear high heels all season long. You'll let me get away with a flimsy coat and no hat.

And then you pull a Jekyll and Hyde on me. You turn to ice. You make the world blustery and dark. I lose all hope, as bitingly dim mornings and bitter cold nights fall into one another til it seems my toes will never thaw and I'll never again jog around the lake. I languish in my home, with starchy dinners and TV reruns, wistfully remembering the girl who roamed outside freely oh-so long ago.

Then, when all hope seems lost, you disappear. One morning, I wake up and you have packed your bags and left for another town. My dear friend Spring calls, and suddenly the birds are singing, the snow races away in melting streams, and my outdoor world is alive. Taking the bus doesn't seem like as much of a punishment, as it does a gift. I consider the herbs I will grow, filling bike tires with air, and the location of my long white skirt. I jog. I laugh. I play. I am again alive.

Until you show up on my doorstep, howling once again. You are still cold, still bitter, still vicious... made even more prominent by the recent respite from your constant barrage. Well, Winter... I'm sick of it, and I am sick of you. I don't like the way you treat me. Your inability to give me any sort of consistency is maddening. You overstay your welcome, and return to me when I least expect it.

I guess what I'm trying to say, Winter, is that we shouldn't see each other any more. I think you need to leave. In fact, I'm over you. I think my friend Spring and I are ready to just hang out for a while, and your imposing presence is getting in our way.

Do us all a favor and get out of town, would ya? You're no good for me, anymore.

Sarah