An Open Letter to a Cantankerous Old Man

Dear Winter,

I’m not the confrontational type, but this needs to be said, and said bluntly. You’ve been a terrible guest. You showed up late, withholding the snowfall far too long; the idyllic White Christmas was sparse. Once you did arrive with snow, it was never enough to validate a snow day, just enough to be a thorough nuisance.

And now you’ve not just overstayed your welcome, it seems as though you might never leave. And I am weary of your presence. I no longer have enough body fat to tolerate you for long. Spring will be sticky and gross, but it will be the welcome prerequisite to Summer.

One day, Winter, I believe:

I won’t go to bed with my feet cold and my nose froze

I won’t have chapped hands thirsting for lotion

I won’t be lopping off my extremities to pay for the gas bill

I won’t kvetch about how cold it is

I won’t be triple layered

I won’t keep the shovel on Red Alert

I won’t be starting my car five minutes before I shift into drive

 

I will wear shorts outside my house

I will sit in my open garage in flip flops with a beer in my hand and the sunset before me

I will wear those canvas socks with rubber soles – Chucks

I will hold Morning Prayer on the deck as the sun rises

I will kvetch about the heat and the bees

I will grill beer brats and shish kabobs and chicken tits (are you salivating?)

I will drive circles in the parking lot with the windows down and the system up

I will play Frisbee golf on the empty college campus

I will play baseball (Did someone say, baseball!?)

 

In short, Winter, you need to leave. I am beyond pleading. You may return in December if you promise not to stay too long.

With all gravity and sincerity,

Jake

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One Comment to “An Open Letter to a Cantankerous Old Man”

  1. AMEN…AMEN…AMEN!

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