By Icy Frantz
I hate to do this in a letter but truthfully, it feels mildly more acceptable than by text. The time has come for us to go our own separate ways. I know we have tried to make this work but I believe that the things that you want in life are at odds with what I am looking for… like warmer weather. What started off with such sweet promise, at first slowly, and now abruptly, has come to a harsh end. I remember the early days of flannel and fleece and cozy evenings under a duvet by the fire, watching the first flakes fall which made my heart flutter like the excitement of an early kiss. What joy I found in the melting marshmallows atop my hot chocolate and in the promise of snowmen and toboggan rides under a starry night with a cool breeze nipping at my face.
It’s mid-March and we have spent the last four weeks pummeled by not one but four Nor’easters. March Madness has come to mean something altogether different from two teams tossing balls into hoops. There has been bitter cold, rain, and snow and gusty winds; and power outages, closed roads and downed trees. You have sparked a town wide debate about those trees and the only conclusion I can draw is that we should not plant trees next to power lines or construct power lines near trees.
Our daughter has become addicted to an app that predicts the possibility of a snow day and I wake many mornings to the sounds of our school alert system. “There will be a two-hour delay… There will be no busses today… And for you, mothers of three elementary aged school children, it will be a very long day.” I am 100% sure that this is just not working out.
Over Christmas break, we headed to Vermont for a few days of skiing. It was -15 on the mountain to which my husband said, “Oh well, we will just need to wear ski masks.” He did. I, however, sat by the fire too afraid to go outside. Until I decided to get in my car and drive right past the mountain traveling anywhere south. Winter, you are cold and insensitive. Are you stalking me?
And let us not forget about bombogenesis, a word I had never even heard before, and we are an informed family. The weather channel for us is what The Crown or The Bachelor are for others. And what a word. It carries such weight, sounds scary and makes me think of Armageddon. Is the end in sight? Introduce me to the finer things in life but not to bombogenesis.
During the first Nor’easter, we were invited to a 60th birthday dinner. The cheerful hosts reached out to us, yet I don’t remember how because our internet was down, to let us know that although they had no power, the dinner was on. I dressed in the dark. Arrived in the dark to a home lit by candles. It was cozy.
“What’s that white stuff on your chin?” I was asked by one of the cheerful hosts. Hmm. Toothpaste. That’s nice. Somewhere midway through dinner, I made my way to the bathroom and instinctively flicked on the light switch. And to my amazement, the lights came on. I ran out quickly wanting to share this incredible news, like I had found a cure for cancer or a lost engagement ring only to be met by my once cheerful hosts now long faced. “Shh. We got our power back hours ago. We just like to be in the dark.” Well, the light has been shed on our relationship and it’s not good.
And speaking of light, we set our clocks ahead, losing a precious hour of sleep and I need my sleep. And now the darkness greets our morning and the only consolation is that it is still light at 7 PM when I like to change into my pajamas. It is so much more embarrassing to open the door to our postman, Pete, in my pajamas in daylight than in darkness. So, yoga pants, your shift just got longer.
But I guess the truth of the matter is that I have met someone else. I am sure this doesn’t come as a complete shock. The signs were there. I had put away my boots and mittens and winter clothes and I am on another strict diet preparing for something new. I just wasn’t in it for the long haul and it’s been long. You don’t bring me flowers but Spring does! And I welcome Spring into my embrace with giddy expectation. Brighter days, flip flops and manicured toes, picnics and bike rides fill my dreams. Oh, how I long for evenings on the back porch and the blooming of buds on crocus hill and the thawing of this arctic chill. I want to hear the sound of a bat hitting a baseball and the chirping of birds not the humming of generators and the scraping of plows. “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Not really. Winter, we will meet again, but for now I am falling hard for Spring.
With no regrets, well maybe a few, Signing off,
Icy
