February Blues

I am ready for winter to be over.

I'm sick of slush. I'm sick of snow. I'm sick of feeling like my skin is so dry and tight it's going to peel right off. I'm sick of this hacking cough I've had for 3 weeks. I want to run outside again, finishing up as the sun sets, watching the world turn red and gold. I want to wake up in daylight, sit on my balcony drinking my first cup of coffee, watching the neighbors stroll by with their dogs. I want to leave the house with less than 3 layers of clothes on. I want to see leaves on the trees, vibrantly-colored flowers, music in the air and the smell of charcoal on the breeze. I want to wear skirts and flip-flops.

The one comforting thing about living in the Northeast is that, despite the desolate brown of winter... you know there's an end in sight. One day, probably in late March, I'll roll out of bed, and it will all be here. The birds, the leaves, the sunlight, the warmth. Life will return to my little corner of the world, and happiness will be restored. At the end of February, however, that moment often seems all too far away.

That being said... I don't think I could live in a place without seasons. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I'm fairly certain I wouldn't love summer half as much if I didn't have winter's misery to compare it to.