Dear Winter,
This just isn't working out. We've had many years together. Some bad, some.. well, less bad. But all cold as shit. These last few months have been particularly brutal, even by Wisconsin standards. This week was the final straw for me.
Monday, as I walked to my car with my winter hood up, you were there waiting for me. You were jealous that I had just been inside somewhere warm, avoiding you. And sure enough, you threw my hood back and hit me in the face with your icy cold breath. It reeked of clearance sale egg nog and winter seasonal ales.
My friends are starting to ask me about the marks, the red nose and ears, the dry, red frostbitten hands. They're beginning to suspect something; that perhaps you're not the wintery wonderland you started out as. I can't keep making excuses for your abusive behavior. And the makeup and de-icer can't cover up everything.
And then remember Tuesday, when we were taking pictures? You were so grey, so curmudgeony. You couldn't even warm up for the camera, and this is the best shot we got of you...
I try to leave and you won't let my car start. I try to walk out and your sidewalk ice pals rip my feet out from underneath me. You try to keep me from leaving the house, and sometimes even my own bed. You always get this way as March approaches, and the first wisps of spring begin dancing around the hemisphere's collective conscience.
When we first met, people would describe you as "fun" or "chill" or "one cool customer," but then you changed. I wasn't sledding as much, or playing in the snow at all, save the occasional snowball thrown at a friend or passing car. Your rolling snow hills began looking more like obstacles to me than places to settle down and build a fort. It's been years since I bought snow pants.
Is that it? Is it because I buy things now to protect myself from you and no longer buy things to enjoy with you? Is that was has made you cold and bitter?
Well, I'm sorry that you feel that way. We've grown apart, and I think it's time to move on already.
Winter... it's over.
Sincerely,
Andy
P.S. -- I'm getting back together with Summer and Summer's on its way here. So come get your shit. It's all over my house and yard.