Last Friday it was 65 degrees out. And at 7pm I was on 86th and Lexington in a spring jacket with no scarf or gloves on, practically dancing down the street. Almost tempted to even buy a Tasti-D-Lite frozen yogurt, I ultimately decided against it. I need to be wearing a dress for my first frozen yogurt purchase, it’s only right. Fast forward to Monday morning, and I am woken up at 6am by the sounds of men shoveling snow outside my friends apartment building in Astoria. Yes, at 25 years old I am still having sleepovers with my girlfriends. They’re better than the ones I had as a kid, because now a bottle of red wine is a part of it in addition to the pizza pie, mud masks, and movie rentals.
On Friday night I felt myself temporarily coming alive again, and by Monday morning my dreams of spring were put on the shelf as I found myself jumping over puddles and freezing on the subway platform. The winter never bothered me in the past, but what is it about this year that is driving me so crazy? We complain when it is too hot outside, and we complain when we get too many snow storms. Where is the satisfaction? I’ve decided the weather really does matter to all of us.
To set the record straight, I actually love having four seasons. I love when the summer is ending and the first time you feel relief from the heat with a nice September breeze. I love when the leaves change color, and when I buy apple cider from a farm stand on Long Island after a day of pumpkin picking. I love the Thanksgiving Day Parade, even though it is usually chilly outside…especially since that’s the day the radio starts playing Holiday music. I enjoy a good snow storm, making hot chocolate, sitting by a fire with someone you love, (or a great book…either will do), and wearing socks that come up to my knees. And when winter breaks, and the sun comes back out; the look on all of our faces when we realize sundresses and light coats are acceptable again. We can walk home from the restaurant because we won’t freeze doing so. The slushy, grey streets are no more and Central Park is filled with roller bladers, strollers, dogs, and couples literally falling in love, in public. There is definitely a cycle to our seasons, and just as much, I feel a cycle with our own personal lives. Our lives can change like the sun can rise and set. It’s supposed to happen this way.
Remember when Peter Pan instructed Wendy, John, and Michael to “think happy thoughts?” Well, if ever given the opportunity to fly with Peter, I know exactly what my happy thought would be. It’s me sitting on a beach early in the morning with a giant cup of coffee, wearing a sundress and watching the ocean. Other thoughts include (but are not limited to) a Central Park picnic in May, and eating pastries in a Paris café just like a local. Perhaps rather than wave a giant white flag to winter this year surrendering our pleasant moods….we should all be channeling our inner Peter Pan.
So, just like the seasons come and go, problems come and go too. I have learned to accept that life will not be perfect every day and every year. We have a good year, we have a bad year. Sometimes a series of wonderful things happen to us, and other times no matter how hard we try we just can’t catch a break! Transition is a part of life. But nothing is forever. And if this winter decided to trip me on 23rd street and have me airborne before falling on my side into a puddle of snow, slush, and the pavement…then so be it. Good pedestrians came over and helped me up, proving it’s not all that bad. Embarassing, yes. But not all that bad. The weather has affected my mood a few times this season, but I am feeling optimistic. We are just a few shy weeks away from March 21st, Spring Equinox. And when the snow melts away this year for the last time, we will all delight in the fact that we made it through another winter. In the meanwhile I am keeping my head up, because deep down I really do believe in all the good things. I believe in summer, wine, love, friends, family, culture, and adventure. Turns out, for a New Yorker…I’m not that sinister. So winter 2011, you can suck it. (How’s that for classy blog writing?)
Until we all thaw out,
Jess
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