Things That Make Us (often break us)

Inside, I feel immutably foreign today.  I hate the cold, the winter, the humdrum of it all, inevitably, also, the hum of snow blowers, the clanking of snow shovels scraping the pavement. I hate the cold raw wind, the icicles, the thought of a snow fort, licking snowballs, the squishing of rubber boots, wiping my nose on my gloves, then being left with, my nose, raw and red.

I hate the cold leather seats in my car, the waiting for the windshield to defrost so I can drive (safely) because I am going to drive anyway, either way, eventually, toggling seamlessly between welling up with tears over a song on the radio and flipping my very best bird at the guy behind me honking his ass off because the light turned green and he can’t wait another nanosecond for me to actually realize, that the light, has in fact, turned green. I have never quite understood how to integrate that part of me that wants to remain unaffected, and the part of me which seriously considers killing someone. 

There is some part of me (possibly a self - loathing part) that feels vaunted by surmounting the daily challenges involved in making a life in this very punishing place called winter. The beach is my favorite place in the world, so I just lie when asked how my life is, how my day is going. (It is cold, frigid, snowy, icy, unbearable, dark, dreary, and painstakingly void of sand, flip flops, and bikinis.) But really, does anyone out there really care? So with respect, I simply reply, “Life is good, and I am fine.” (I am hoping for an early spring, and the first sprung of a purple crocus head in my garden)