this is dedicated to my lovely roomie who provided me with a british make hot water bottle for my bed to heat up. i was reluctant to believe as well. but it worked. also to all my friends who held my hand through my borrowed east coast winters. thinking about you always. based on the quick write for heating up! enjoy!
Heating up in the warmth of my covers and personal heater and layers. I am frozen. Mostly because I went outside not equipped for this now impending winter. It was 70 something a few days ago and now I am reading mid 50s. I couldn’t warm up all afternoon- all evening. I heated up soup and tea and myself in this bed and nothing seemed to work. But soon I was fast asleep in this cocoon of heat. I did wake up sweaty and realized I was defrosted again.
I am wimp. I realize that I am the northern Californian make and snow angels and snow days were not mine until adulthood. By choice. I was shocked the winter lasted so long sometimes 6 months. I was shocked it snowed on my birthday every single year I lived on the east coast April not too late for snow. I was shocked to learn about wind chill and scarves up your neck with just your two eyes out. I was shocked to leave my house quickly and land flat on my back. Laying there in my apartment parking lot. Not knowing what hit me. Because I was naïve. I am a Californian. Black ice and wind chill and snow storms were left to the movies. Were left to other people’s lives. Hats were for style not for luxury. Winter jackets- never really did I need one. I had to prepare for this new life I was embarking. Buying my first down coat. Heating up.
But even in the chilliness of months I did find things that heated me up. A snowball fight of childhood lived as an adult. Laying on my back snow angels mine for the first time. The movement of the sand of my upbringing now upon this snow. Back and forth. The walking in the snow before anyone else had. Your foot slowly begins its descend toward the bottom of the pool, the tub of the ground. Days when the snow didn’t get cleaned in time and New York City would slow to a halt. A city yearning for a pause. And walking up and down Amsterdam, people now as cars. Cars not running, no buses, no hustle, no bustle. Just the soft noise of the snow slushy against our feet. And warmth inside and around. We are walking on a New York City street. Where usually you might need a prayer just to cross. To the park. Snow everywhere you can see. The beauty of the whiteness before the cityness gets to it.
I complain about the cold. But I do miss the winters I borrowed for a few years. I do dream of a snow fall outside upon my San Francisco street so I can feel the sand of snow now at home and hear the quietness of sound of my foot steps on the pillow of the snow. The slowing down and the happiness of it when it first falls that would be my request. One good snowfall and back to my cold enough winter in the 50’s. Teasing me first with a few 70 degrees days before it decides to make its entrance. Again.
image: courtesy of life magazine. http://www.life.com/image/56831621
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