Cold hopes

Last weekend, I was in Alabama, and the temps were in the 50s. It was glorious. I left my coat in the car one day as my friend and I walked to lunch.

Clasping her own coat snugly, she thought I was crazy.  For her, in the South, the mid-50s mean cold.

Now, back in Illinois, I stayed inside today as more snow fell and the temps didn't clear 20 all day. Everybody is tired of it, naturally.  My aches and pains return after (I swear) they disappeared in the South.

The whole body just feels tight and dry and brittle in the cold.  It is hard to breathe and expand. We have short memories that do not recall the sweat of summer.  In fact, it seems impossible to think of walking outside in fear of heat, even though we did that just a few months ago.

We wrap ourselves in layers, piling on garment after garment until we are warm.  It takes longer to dress and get out the door each morning.  It is harder to move.

But all of this cold just means that when we move into spring, we will emerge like Lazarus.  We will peel off the death shrouds of layered sweaters and scarfs and breathe again.  When we get our own -- our very own -- mid-50s, we will get to leave coats in the car. It will be glorious.

I'm going to be thankful for this bitter cold from now on so I can simply increase my hope for spring.