23 March 2014
Dear Mr./Ms. Winter,
I trust this note finds you well. I gather you are, in fact, well as witnessed by the ever-so-random snowflakes cascading beautifully past my window as I write this note. Sure, this snowfall would probably barely be classified as a “trace” but – having lived in Ohio my whole life, as well as having endured the seemingly endless winter currently upon us – I know how quickly that can change.
I’m not here to “ask” you anything – like “Please let Spring come,” or to scold you, as in “Cleveland’s first snowfall of the current ‘season’ was 24 October 2013 – five months ago… There are FOUR seasons – everyone gets a turn and your turn is over.” Nope. I’m not going to try to beg you or shame you or reason with you. I just wrote to let you know, you win…
That’s right – you win. I surrender. I give up. Come on, bury me in your Winter whiteness. Cover me with snow and ice and cold. Sentence me to live out my life filled with short gray days devoid of sunlight. I don’t care any more. You have played a brilliant psychological game, teasing me with some sun, then returning to cold and darkness for weeks; some temps above freezing, followed by a 24-hour plunge back to near sub-arctic temps. I am broken. I simply do not have enough “fire” in me to even bitch about it any more. It’s over…
Move the glacier in over Cleveland. Take me to your cold, ice prison and get it over with. As I said, you win.
With deep contempt and resentment, I remain,
Tim in CLE