Dear God this damn country is so cold.
I walk to class, huddled deep into a coat, compressing myself into as small a profile as manageable. My hands are shoved deep into pockets, swaddled in gloves, clenched tight into fists of discomfort.
My face, my ears, these things freeze.
This would be normal, acceptable even, were it winter.
This is not normal. This is not acceptable.
This is March.
By rights, by virtue of my experience (limited though it is) it should be raining, sunny, cloudy. Anything really, other than this soul-eating cold. Snow drops serenely from pregnant skies, drifting down in miserable white clumps.
I love snow. I really do. It reminds me of childhood, of sledding, of cancelled school, of the million things that little kids love and the million adventures a little kid can commit in the whitewashed world of snowfalls.
I love snow. But let me clarify. I love snow in the winter. It is now spring. I would like it to go away now please.
I hate walking to the gym as the snow drifts around me, shivering in the early morning cold, existing early morning misery exacerbated by inclement weather.
I hate walking to class as snowflakes tumble.
I hate sitting trapped in my room as the winds howl.
I hate staring hatefully out the window as snow swirls around dim light-posts at night.
So now I am torn. I love snow, but I hate it. I hate it now in this moment. I have hated it for the past few weeks.
I am notorious among my friends for reveling in foul weather, for greeting wind and rain with open arms, a glad heart and laughter.
Now I find myself full of curmudgeonly complaint. I want springtime. I want spring showers. I want flowers, and green, and a moderate increase in warmth.
Thus far the weather gods have deemed my complaints unworthy, unworthy of their consideration.
Winter please go away. Spring should be here and much as I appreciate your snow, it’s a bit inappropriate now.