Dear Winter,
You might not remember me, but you and I go waaay back because I grew up in Pennsylvania. We got along so well back then. Being young, all I ever wanted was for you to come and rescue me from the monotony of school with those two glorious words: “snow day.” You’d grace us with more than a foot of snow and school would be canceled so we could go tubing, build forts and have snowball fights all day. After hours of playing in the snow, we’d go inside and try to drink hot chocolate even though our hands were still numb from the cold.
You were with me during the years I lived in New York City too. Again, dumping foot after foot of snow on the ground, but I didn’t like it as much those years. It almost became kind of a nuisance because when you drop that much snow in that dense of an area, there’s nowhere for it to go except to be piled up on the sidewalks. So I walked in it, climbed over huge mountainous piles of it and inevitably slipped and fell in it.
And now I live in North Carolina. I know it’s called North Carolina, but it’s still in the southern region of the United States… where it’s supposed to be much warmer and less-snowy than Pennsylvania or New York. For the past few years, that’s held true. But not this year. No, it’s been so cold and dreary and we’ve gotten more snow than the state has seen in I don’t know how long.
Don’t get me wrong. There are things I love about you, Winter. I love how beautiful it is after a fresh snowfall. I love the crisp, cold air that bites at my nose as I’m doing my holiday shopping. I love the warmth of coffee in the morning and homemade soup on the weekends. And I love winter oranges. I look forward to them every year!



I love, appreciate and look forward to all of those things…. between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Maybe through mid-January. But now, being that it’s almost February, I can safely say that, in my opinion, you have over-stayed your welcome.
I’m ready for Spring to move in. I’m ready to see my daffodils pop up and fresh green grass in my front yard again. I want to open my windows and breathe in fresh air (not dry, winter furnace air). And I really, really, really just want to be able to wear flip-flops again.
So please. It’s time for you to go. I won’t miss you while you’re gone, but will long for you in October and November. Until then. It’s been (mostly) fun.




























