Friday, November 8, 2013

I Remember...

being cold...

in a light spring jacket that wouldn't zip. Only it wasn't spring, it was just cold.

The wind whipped through me and around me and my eyes stung with tears from the cold.

I cried to my older sister, I'm so cold and I don't remember what she said back, but I know she was just as cold.

We were walking blocks and blocks to school and I couldn't wait to get there so I would finally be warm.

I remember the sky was gray and threatening to snow and why was I in such a light jacket? My fingers were red and numb and I had a hood on my jacket only it wouldn't stay up because my jacket wouldn't zip and the wind kept blowing it off my pony-tailed head.

I hate being cold. I would rather be hungry than cold, and we knew hunger; when we only had Saltines and dry cereal to fill our little tummies, I could swallow away hunger, but couldn't escape the cold.

I remember being cold at night. I'd curl myself into a tiny little ball to try and warm up and I'd wish for more blankets so I could bury myself beneath them.

Today I wear layers and layers. There aren't enough layers...I text my sister to complain about the cold and wonder if she remembers those same walks to school in our jackets that don't zip, and the wind that whipped our hair, and the tears that stung our eyes.

She does. We know cold in the same heartbreaking way as only we sisters could. Someday we'll live somewhere warm where the sun is always shining and sparkling over the ocean waves and we can bury our toes in the sand and say, we never have to be cold again...

I wear layers to bed and sleep under piles of blankets and I curl myself into a ball like I used to. Sometimes I wake up sweating. That is the nicest feeling. I'd rather be too warm than too cold. I ask my kids every morning if they're warm enough. Do you need a hat? Another warm layer? Are you sure you don't need your mittens? They always insist they are fine. They love the winter; the snow, playing in it for hours until I beg them to come in and get warm. They don't feel the cold like I do, don't know the feeling of never being warm enough; and that's good, that's really good. I'll wear their cold for them.


No comments:

Post a Comment