Yesterday the temperature was beautiful enough that I ventured out for a four and a half mile walk (I can’t make myself run these days). As I type this, it’s snowing. Hard. I guess winter is here.
I wasn’t born and raised in Michigan. Even though I’ve lived here longer than half my life, I find myself miserable through winter – I can’t get used to the cold or the snow. I can’t get used to the slowed caution driving on the slippery roads takes. I can’t get used to snow days or how I have to juggle when the kids have one (But oh! I do remember how I loved them when I was in high school – and the year we got such awful snow, we had five snow days in a row! So lovely then).
I don’t like to be cold.
I suppose I should seriously consider moving someday, and maybe someday I will. For now, though, I can’t. Roots have glued me – more so my daughters than my own. This morning my mom’s husband said, “Before you had kids, your mom and I had talked of moving to New Mexico. THANKS FOR NOTHING.” He was joking, but I know he doesn’t love the cold either. I find it interesting that mom would consider New Mexico – I guess I don’t know the weather patterns there. She hated California though – she wanted four seasons. She wanted to be where she grew up.
So she is and now I am.
And it’s snowing and I am curled in bed wishing for spring again. Perhaps a longer autumn.
Anything but the snow.
I’m not ready for it.
Living in the rainy and dark Pacific Northwest I dread the darkness of winter. The darkness of winter make me sad. I was born and raised in Oregon but as I grow older I dream of moving. I swear it always rains when I go grocery shopping. I usually always come come soaked. I am looking forward to Christmas. It means that slowly, the days will start to become longer and soon it will be summer again. If you could move where you go?