On Such a Winter's Day

Every morning, I walk half an hour to work. Every afternoon, I walk a half hour back home. I know I’m lucky to live in such a foot-friendly city with an abundance of accessible public transportation, but try telling me that when I’m up to my eyeballs in frigid weather. Ice threatens to trip up the hardiest of my snow boots. Buses mock me along their routes, going the exact opposite way from where I need to be. All kinds of precipitation make my morning shower unnecessary. When it’s not pouring down cold water from the sky, my hair freezes.

Today, however, was a welcome respite. The sun was out, beating down on me like the traveler in Aesop’s fable. I unzipped my puffy ski coat and took off my mittens. I smiled like a fool at a dozen other unbuttoned people, kindness invigorated by unexpected warmth. Blood pumped through my veins, awakening the lizard part of me that only wants to sit in the sun.

As much as I love curling up in bed with a book and snuggling under an absurd nest of covers, I’m ready for a change. I want to read outside. I want sun on my shoulders and maybe a beach. Heck, I’d settle just to sit out back on the porch my window overlooks. I could see myself in a hammock, stretched out all reptilian, with a nice iced beverage in arm’s reach. My porch is kind of a small for a hammock though. Maybe a more realistic fantasy would be sitting in this round chair with a fluffy pillow. (Hey, it’s still a good fantasy! I have no budget for awesome modern furniture. Besides, there’s still a tropical drink on the side table to next me.)

Having lived through four Boston winters (well into my fifth), I know I’m only setting myself up for disappointment. Winter here stays for a long time, clinging with icy fingers, and I know I’m in for a lot more snow in the face during my morning commute. Still, a girl can daydream.