Did someone say winter?

I like to say I much prefer winter over summer; sweaters and corduroys instead of shorts and Hawaiian shirts; jackets and mukluks in place of T-shirts and sandals. I usually say this at least once a year, typically in the middle of a long, sweltering summer because, “You know, you can always put on more clothing, but there’s only so much you can take off.”

“Yes, I’ve heard you say that many times,” she said to me, bundled up in three pairs of sweatpants, two sweaters and a very heavy robe. She was wearing the cozy pair of fluffy house shoes I gave her for Christmas. “Yep. Many, many times. But what about now?”

I looked out the living room window to see if, hopefully, anything had changed. It hadn’t. The central heater was barely keeping up with the falling temperature, and the dog was refusing to go outside to “take care of business,” not that I blamed her.

I buried my hands deep inside my hoodie’s pockets and asked, “How long did the weatherman say this was going to last?”

“A day? A week? Forever? I don’t remember,” she said. “But what does it matter? You PREFER winter.”

It just dawned on me that I preferred snow DAYS and hot chocolate and not getting frostbite while sitting on your own couch. Of course, I kept that thought to myself. 

“You know how I’m always laughing at folk up north for complaining about 90-degree summer weather?” 

“Are you about to have an epiphany, dear?” she said, sarcastically.

“It’s because they’re not used to having hot weather like we are,” I said.

“And?”

I rubbed my hands to keep them warm and said, “They’re probably laughing at us right now.”

“Bingo! And we have a winner.”

Of course I have a romantic view of winter. Other than being born during a freak Texas ice storm back in the 60s, I’ve never actually experienced the kind of lengthy cold that you might find in Fargo, North Dakota, or Trondheim, Norway. There are no week-long snow showers in Fort Worth, you will never be able to ice skate on San Antonio’s River Walk, and the only blizzard you’ll find in East Texas is at the local Dairy Queen.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll keep the coffee brewing all day long. The caffeine will probably keep you awake all night, but at least your tummy will be warm.”

To all my northern friends: You are made of hardier stuff than I. You build ice castles and snow hotels, and all I want is a warm heating pad. You go sledding at the drop of a hat. I never want to take my hat off. If it didn’t look stupid, I’d wear two. You dive into frigid lakes just because they’re there. I watch you doing it through your InstaTube accounts and think you’re bonkers.

To all my Texas friends: As I sit here writing this, I have a cup of coffee sitting nearby to warm up my hands, the faucets are dripping enough to double my water bill, and I have no idea how miserable the next few days are going to get. 

As you’re sitting there reading this, you know exactly how all this ended. You’re probably wearing a T-shirt and shorts by now, sipping on a sweet iced tea, the faucets are turned off, the pipes are repaired, and the heater hasn’t turned on all day. Oh, how lucky you are, and how lucky we all will be when we meet again.