You and I go back don’t we? Long walks in knee deep snow, frolicking in the flurry of white flakes falling all around us, building snowmen and forts, even the snowball fights. And after … warming up in front of a cozy fire, with a great meal and a bottle of wine. That overall feeling of “being in love” with my favorite season. It wasn’t just any whirlwind romance. I will always remember those times and the qualities I saw in you back then.
Please believe me when I say this. It’s not you, it’s me. I know I used to love the snow and ice, even when you froze me out, I somehow tolerated your quirkiness with steady resolve. Well, I find now that I’m getting older I’m having a more difficult time. I’m no longer able to trudge through knee deep snow. Your cold shoulder is no longer something I can tolerate without mentioning how it hurts me. The very air hurts me. Why would I live where the air is painful?
I’ve tried to behave as I thought you might want me to, but I must be true to myself. I think we should see other seasons. Maybe after the pain dissipates we can even come back together for some fun in the snow next year.