An open letter to Winter: It’s over

Dear Winter,

I am writing this today because I really don’t know how to say this to you in person. I guess I’ll start by saying this: I’ll always have a special place in my heart for you. I mean  after all, we’ve been through so much together. That time when I couldn’t get out of the drive- way because there was too much ice and snow. Ah! That time when your wind whipped snow straight  into my face on the way to class. I just can’t believe how fast the time has gone. I’ll never forget being wildly uncomfortable when I got out of the shower because my room was so cold. Or when I slipped down a flight of stairs because I didn’t see the ice. Through that though, I do love you, and I’ll cherish the time we had.

It wasn’t always bad was it? It always makes me happy to think about when we met. I was with that total jerk, Fall, and honestly? The feelings were just dying, falling off like leaves on a tree. It was then that I first got a glimpse of you, and it honestly made my heart beat faster. It happened so perfectly. We flirted, exchanged looks. There would be just a little frost on the grass in the morning, or I would have to pull my blankets just a little closer at night. Heck, compared to that huge butthole Summer, our relationship started like a fairytale: much less sweat. But what I’ll never forget, that moment I knew: the first snow. Walking outside a dirty gas station on 15th street and seeing your first snow took my breath away. I haven’t been the same since. From there it was a wonderland with you, Winter. I guess that’s why they call it a winter wonderland! We played outside, had snowball fights, drank hot chocolate, cozied up to the fire! It was so wonderful, a haze of white snow, warm drinks and fun.

But then, you and I both know something changed. The snow started turning brownish as you  got meaner. We started fighting. You got jealous. I remember how the wind stopped softly, blow- ing the snow around and got bitter as we fought. I just stopped wanting to be outside with you,  it became so much work. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. As I drew away you got angrier. The nights turned bitter, and soon it was uncomfortable even to be outside. The icicles on my house grew dangerous as your love turned sour. The snow only got dirtier, just like our love.

I am sorry to say it, Winter, but what we had just stopped being fun, and it got really bad. There’s a lot I wish I could take back. I knew it hurt when I said things like “Not snow again” or “I just wish I could be in Florida right now.” But it hurt when we had eight inches of snow to get through to get to school. It hurt when I couldn’t get warm at night for ten minutes even after I was in the covers. It really hurt when I forgot to close my sunroof after a random sunny day and you dumped six inches of snow into my 1998 Honda civic with 40 inch rims and neon lights under the frame.

So we parted ways. You left, finally. I hate to say it, but I was relieved. I realized just how much I didn’t want you. It was so nice.

But now you’ve come back.

Winter, stop. This isn’t like you. You need to let go. I will always love you, kinda, but it’s over. We’re through. This is my letter to you and to everyone, so they can see what I’m asking you to do and hold you to it. Get out of here Winter, and don’t come back! (until I get lonely next fall).

Love now and forever,


P.S. What’s the deal with icicles; seriously? I thought it was too cold for water to melt, so how are you making those things? If it’s not too cold, I get it. But on those days where it’s freezing the whole time and I wake up to a huge icicle is confusing. All I’m saying is there are things you’re not telling me.


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