It was 33 degrees out and snowing on my drive into work both yesterday and today. The difference is today it is sticking, accumulating in the grass and on my car. I generally consider myself lucky to have snagged a desk next to one of the few windows in my office, but today it only reminds me of how much I despise snow, and wish Jon would agree to move to a warmer climate, but for some strange reason he actually likes the cold and slippery white stuff. So, I am left to stare out the window at my little gray car, with white sludge gathering on the windshield, and wonder if my snow-brush is still in the trunk. I have to scold myself for not watching the weather because I didn't bother to wear a coat, let alone gloves or a hat. Apparently I have been in denial that this day was coming whether I wanted it to or not.
I don't remember when I started to dislike winter.
I grew up across the street from the parking lot of a church, and my brothers and I would celebrate when snowplows would appear to push mounds of snow to the edges of the lot. The mounds became forts and we dug into them to create tunnels and barriers for some of the best snowball fights and ambushes in the history of North Hill.
Nothing felt better than waking up in the morning, only to be told that it was a snow day, and I could go back to bed. I can actually remember missing entire weeks of school because of wind chills at 20 degrees below 0 or massive amounts of overnight snowfall.
We had a park not half a mile away with gigantic hills perfect for sled-riding but we thought it was more fun to all pile up on the lid to our turtle sandbox and take a ride down the long, steep hill in our front yard.
First snowfalls, snow angels, white Christmas...
I have so many great memories of winter, but one day the only things I began to care about were the days off school. I became afraid of barreling down a hill on a piece of plastic, or getting hit upside the head with a snowball. I started driving and became afraid of losing control of my car. I began commuting 45 minutes north, closer to Lake Erie and the lake effect snow, and have spent 3 hours trying to get home.
Eventually my fears overrode all of the fun, and now all I do is dread the return of winter.
Of course, I'm not so sure I'm ready for palm trees at Christmas time either.