As a Central Texas kid, nothing excited me more than the prospect of snow. Sure, we got an occasional January chill. Even a light dusting a couple of times. But those brief encounters with winter only ever left me wanting more.
I liked sweaters and fires, and I fantasized about wandering through frozen forests. But, as I sit here, in the dead of it, watching the white wind whip through the trees, I have to admit, I hate winter.
Sure, I could go snowboard, but with the wind chill, it feels like negative five. I could go to a café, but that would mean unburying my car and potentially losing a finger while scrapping off the ice. So instead, I’ve decided to stay in write.
No, it isn’t always this cold, but then again, the snow isn’t always white. During warmer stretches, the town is a mess. Snow becomes a brown mixture of mud, oil, and slush. It seeps through your boots. Don’t even think about wearing non-water proof shoes.
The sun sets early. And the shadows take over shortly after noon. I go into work at 2pm, and stay ‘till midnight when the sky is pitch black, and the temps make my skin crack.
Grungy bars and breweries are the only opportunities to socialize. But it doesn’t take long for that scene to get old. Which is why people choose to stay inside.
With the cold come the cravings. My stomach’s never satisfied. From oatmeal to soup, warm sugary junk is often the only way to make it silent. At work I pound coffee, because when it’s cold and dark, I’m tired.
Some days, I love snowboarding, but with the crowds and the ice, it’s more frustrating than fun, most of the time.
This winter has been an opportunity to study and write. I’ve spent 22 days on my snowboard, and I’ve even snowshoed a few times. I’ve taken day trips to the city. And I’ve made a couple friends. It’s been an experience, battling these frigid temps.
Until two years ago, moving to the mountains had always been a dream of mine. These days, I find myself dreaming of a place that’s warm and bright.