I really tried to take my walk this morning. After
bundling up in sweatpants, heavy knee socks, two shirts, vest, coat, hat,
scarf, and leather gloves, I ventured out the front door only to be knocked
backward by a vicious gust of wind. That gust had it in for me. I’m sure of it! But I pulled myself together and persevered, knowing the eighteen-degree
temperature couldn’t possibly feel as frigid once I moved into the sunlight. Wrong!
As I rounded the shaded corner, my eyes started to water, my bundled-up
body was wracked with shivers, and my nose began to run. Quickly, the nasal
drainage formed a snot-cicle and not a pretty one. With wind-burned face and
frost-bitten toes, I did an about-face and headed back inside. Okay, maybe that
was a slight exaggeration. Anyway, it had taken nearly twenty minutes to
dress for the weather, and my walk lasted less than five minutes—not the aerobic
event of champions.
The point is, I lived in the northeast for eighteen
years, enduring its long, cold, dreary, snowy winters. When I moved to Virginia
via North Carolina, I expected mild winters. And by “expected,” I mean ordered,
decreed, demanded. Let’s just say it was a strong expectation.
During the thirty-four winters I’ve lived in Virginia,
I’ve experienced five major ice storms, hundreds of snow days, and enough
freezing temperatures to store a year’s worth of whale blubber for an entire
Inuit family. Oops! Am I exaggerating again? Don’t get me started on hurricanes,
spring pollen, and sweltering summers.
The good thing about Virginia’s weather, though, is it
only lasts a couple of days. By Wednesday, the temperature might climb to the sixties.
I’ll wait till then to take my walk.
Cindy L. Freeman is the author of two award-winning
short stories and three published novels: Unrevealed, The
Dark Room and I Want to Go Home.
Website: www.cindylfreeman.com;
Facebook page: Cindy Loomis Freeman. Her books are available from amazon.com or
hightidepublications.com
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