And so with this, my eleventieth cold this God forsaken season, on yet another -25 degree day (of which there have been countless), and after virus after pink eye after food poisoning after a constant state of cabin fever has pushed everyone in this house to their limits causing sleepless nights and easy rage, I say to you, Winter: F*CK OFF AND DIE, ALREADY. WE GET IT. YOU WIN. NOW GO AWAY AND LEAVE US TO GET ON WITH OUR LIVES.
Then there’s you, Spring. Just where the hell do you think you’ve been? And why the hell aren’t you back yet? I can feel you in the air some days. The confused birds, now awake and chirping, wondering the exact same thing. Everyone is waiting for you, you know. Do you get some sort of twisted pleasure in dragging out your return? Because, that’s not nice, dude. We’ve put up with a lot these last four months, and are seriously in need of some sweet Spring loving.
My poor Bee has dead eyes every morning when I stuff her into her snowsuit, resigned herself to thinking this is her fate. Day in and day out, for the rest of her life, she will suffer inside a too-big, puffed red body armour, never to be free to run uninhibited or unrestrained like she does in her dreams. I try and explain that it’s almost over! See how the sun is still out on our walk home from school? That means one day soon Spring will be here and everyone will be happy again….
Perhaps I don’t believe it myself which is why she remains unconvinced. We’re all starting to feel unconvinced. Like this is our fate, to survive in this frozen wasteland for all eternity.
It’s too much. Too much.
So, Winter? Go. You’ve had your time. And, Spring? We’re ready for you any time.