The world is brushed with shades of gray, dirty snow, hidden ice, and smears of crusted salt. Frost is not only on the outside of the car, but also inside. Scraped, it falls on the dashboard, another dusting of frozen snow. Half-asleep, hunched and cramped uncomfortably from the pervasive chill in the air, I can’t remember the last time I’ve really smiled. Even the sunshine feels threatening, as only freezing wind pushes the clouds away long enough for it to make an appearance.
This winter is like a slow moving nightmare. The snow keeps on falling, day after day, higher and higher. It’s as if we’re being buried alive. The piles in our yard are to our shoulders, above the line of sight when I pull out of the driveway. In town, they’re carting the snow away in giant trucks, no doubt so they can put the parking meters back in commission. Where are they driving all of this snow to? Florida? It’s time to follow the trucks and make our escape.
I know that spring and even summer will come again. I know it intellectually, but my body doesn’t quite believe it. The kids have patches of red on their faces and on their hands that no amount of Aquaphor slathering banishes. I’ve taken to wearing a turtleneck to bed and to daily deep glasses of malbec at dinner.
Enough. We need a break. A change of scenery, a few days of relaxation of our cramped and cold muscles. Like a thief in the night, I’m deserting my husband on Valentine’s Day and taking my baby girls to California to hug and be with family. A few days with cousins, playing outside without jackets, should bring big smiles back to all our faces.