This time of year growing up, I’d be sweating my buns off in 90-degree weather. Sitting in hard seats that my skin stuck to didn’t help the uncomfortable situation. We’d all have mungus of some sort, much like everyone does now. How can you not when you’re cooped up with hundreds of people and, later, changing desks 7 times a day?
Now, I live in a climate so different from where I grew up. It’s fall already for another few weeks before it’s just winter for a long time. We’re wearing our winter coats here and making a fire in the morning. It snowed yesterday all morning. The sun came out around noon, and all the snow around the house has melted since then. Today, we have sunshine, blue skies and a cold breeze.
All summer long, I’ve been telling myself that I didn’t want to live here another winter. I think I say that every year. Now that the cold weather’s here, I know that I will stay. I conclude that every year, too.
Nine months of winter: year 9. Seeing that on the screen makes me feel more anxious than when I say it outloud. Maybe I don’t want to live here another winter, but I will. And I will be fine.