Spring, You Are a Liar and a Coward!
It’s April 6th. April 6th. The first day of spring was March 20. Two and a half weeks ago spring began in the Northern Hemisphere. And that is where the lies began. Because spring did not begin here, it didn’t even hint at starting here. Right now, spring is cowering under the giant bully of winter, powerless to make show itself; shivering, freezing, and hiding under the many feet of heavy, wet snow that refuses to go the fuck away!
This is my front yard. Note the lawn chair, desperate to be used, seat turned to the sun that is doing absolutely nothing to melt this god damn snow. A perfect winter scene, am I right? Not so much a spring scene. The temperature at the time of this photo? -21 degrees Celcius. Whaaat you say?? Impossible!! How the fuck is it -21 in April? Well, I will post a photo as proof. There is it. -21, feeling like -26. On April 6th. (For those of you in the United States, that is -6 Degrees Fahrenheit.)
Yep, happy fucking spring, people.
Is my language offensive? Is my constant dropping of F-bombs bothering you? If you lived here, if you had to stare out your window knowing it’s -21 while staring at the snow which shows ABSOLUTELY NO SIGN OF MELTING, you wouldn’t blame me and my swearing one bit. There’s only so much a person can take, and after a brutal, painful, windy, shitty, record-breaking snowfall winter, this is the breaking point!
Why do I live here?
I don’t know.
Recently I came back from California. When I flew home I knew what the weather would be like and I convinced myself it would be okay. I said to myself, I can do this. You can’t control the weather. Spring has to come eventually.
And then I spent the weekend surrounded by snow, with no sign of the temperatures rising. And the next day. And the next. Finally, I told myself, “It’s sunny, enjoy the weather, take your dog for a walk.” Well, I did, and I froze, because the biting wind was so brutal it cut through all my layers, the sun powerless to warm me up one little bit. And I thought back to being in the airport, heading home from California.
I sat in the Orange County airport watching people come and go. I did the same in San Francisco. I checked out the destinations on all the gates. I stared outside, desperately wishing I didn’t have to say goodbye to the green grass and palm trees. All while thinking, people live here. People live where spring exists. People live where winter doesn’t take over your entire life and refuse to leave like the life-ruining asshole roommate it is.
People live in nice places with nice weather and there I was, boarding a tiny plane (tiny because NO ONE WANTS TO GO THIS FAR NORTH!) to go to winter, in April.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I put up with something I truly hate year after year after year?
Because I am chicken. I am a coward. I truly am. I’m too scared to leave the safety net of a good paying job (my husband’s), his connections, our friends and acquaintances, the knowledge that were we to fail at anything, he could walk in and get another job in a heartbeat. You move away from that and you have, what? Nice weather, yes, but nice weather doesn’t pay for your kids dance and gymnastics, or race fuel for your son’s dirt bike.
But I’m starting to think that money just isn’t worth it anymore. You’ve obviously read this far, you can see I’m losing my mind: frustrated, angry, ready to snap. This can’t be good for my mental health. Hell, I know it’s not good for my physical health. In California my skin felt amazing, my hair was relatively nice and curly; I felt good because I walked and walked and walked because the weather made it easy to do so. Here, my back hurts from sitting all day, my hands and lips are chapped and dry from the snow sucking all moisture from the air, and my ass is already expanding from the inability to walk. Yeah, yeah, I could walk, but after entering the 8th consecutive month of winter (no exaggeration), I’m sick to fucking death of fighting the cold and the snow just to go for a walk!
I left this:
To go to this:
What the hell is wrong with me? While spring hides cowardly under the snow, refusing to show its face, I sit at my desk, bitching and moaning, just as much of a coward because I can’t take the leap to get the hell out from under winter’s clutches either. How do you do it? How do you overcome the fear of leaving everything you know, how do you give up safety and security and take that leap into the unknown? Because hiding in my office, hoping the snow will eventually melt, is not working anymore.