"It's Supposed to Warm up Next Week:" The Forgotten Promise.
“I’ve resigned myself to the cold,” I told the dentist. A slightly depressing response to “it’s supposed to warm up next week,” but truly reflective of the situation at hand. In my defense, asking me about the miserable weather whilst drilling into my teeth is probably not the ideal setting for an optimistic conversation. Its April 16 2018, the sky is grey, the coats have still not been put away and I’m beginning to doubt whether wearing stockings is ever going to be one of my challenges again.
Over a month late, the Spring jokes have subsided and now all that’s left is a stale “haha the milk tastes funny” type irony. It’s become an obsession, the common ground strangers on the East Coast can always agree upon in that awkward moment when they realize only one of them supports Trump. Winter was supposed to come, be difficult, and then go. But instead it stayed and lingered like a Shabbos afternoon guest thats 2 hours past their welcome, and all you’re thinking as you smile and nod in conversation is when in the world will I get to take this wig off?! (To all my recent guests, you have never reached this point).
I’m done with thinking it’s going to get better. I’m done with seeing a glimmer of sunlight and excitedly running to get the bikes out, only to find myself shivering in an empty carpark convincing the kids “it’s not THAT cold is it?!” I’m done energetically putting spring clothes for the kids into my online GAP cart only to realize they’ve outgrown their winter gear and need more mittens and snow hats instead. I’m done knowing that I could technically go skiing in this weather and feeling guilty that I’m too lazy to do so. I’m DONE being COLD.
Australians and Californians alike are probably struggling to relate to this. Well, remember that exciting feeling you used to get at the sight of snow? The way it beautifully framed any scene to provide a picturesque version of life with a filter far better than anything Instagram could provide? We grew up believing memories were made on snowy days. Kids giggling as they throw soft little snow balls at their parents that don’t need to work because fluffy flakes are falling out of the sky. Now imagine reaching a point where all that excitement is GONE. The only thing you think about now when you see snow, is the sluggish mud scene the streets will succumb to the next day.
So, I’ve come to terms with my new reality in this cold climate. What’s the big deal? I convince myself. Everywhere you go the heat is blasting you barely even feel the cold. I love being home and sipping on hot chocolate. The kids don’t know any better so they’re not complaining. They think “playing in the snow” is a sport. Coats can look good, if you pay a lot of money for them. I don't have to worry about trying to cover up when we go to the lake. All in all, I could get used to this, we could make this work. I won’t even remember there was a thing called sunshine and that way missing it won’t be so hard.
And then even as I write this, the sun intermittently peeks out behind the clouds, almost teasingly. I’m here, even if you don’t see me. I will come out, one day. If not tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that, then maybe in a week. It is supposed to be warm next week, and even though I won’t let get myself too excited, I trust that it will happen eventually.
I’ve “resigned” myself to a lot of things in life erroneously. I thought I’d never get married, and then I did. I thought I’d never learn to cook and then I did (sort of). I thought we’d never find a house and then I drove the sellers agent up the wall, and we did. I thought I’d never get cavities and then I did. Ok, bad example. But in all these situations I learned to make do in the meantime, at times getting too comfortable in my new reality.
Sometimes I find it hard to believe Moshiach will finally come. Its seems like such a far-off concept in a world where 90% of my time is spent trying to catch up sleep from the night before, re-ordering diapers or figuring out what to make for Shabbos this week. Until something horrible happens and then the ordinary suddenly feels so far removed.
We’ve been through so much and are still waiting, somewhat impatiently. Sure, internal garages, melatonin and sourdough bread have certainly made the wait here more comfortable, and technically anything could be elevated and used for the good. But at the same time there’s an advantage to knowing this is all temporary and that someday the sun will shine again, not just in a physical sense.