I’m tired of snow. I know this is true because it’s hardly snowed this winter at all until now. I took the above picture about half-way through our current storm. It was about the second time I’d gone out to shovel that I thought to myself, “I really need to live somewhere without snow. Somewhere warm.”
Typically this thought only comes to me after the fact, but this time the shoveling has me irritated and sore.
Austin, TX looks like a nice place. So does Raleigh, NC (though I’m pretty sure they get snow, so maybe not.)
A few years back we got five feet of snow in as many days. The city ground to a halt under all that ice, and several roofs collapsed – including the roof of the bookstore I’m currently blogging from.
With only two feet, the city is basically up and running. Or crawling. Either way, the thrill is gone. Sure, it’s very beautiful. It’s exciting for the kids. But I realized as I shoveled away at where the plow had buried us once again that I’ve never actually lived anywhere warm. I live in Arizona, and truth be told I do love it here, but a part of me just wants plant my ass in the sand in March. Or in a swimming pool.
Maybe this is simply a moment of passing wanderlust. I moved around a lot as a kid, so that piece of me that’s drawn to wander is tempered mightily by the other pieces that want to stay firmly planted in a place. To call without question a place home.
Having family nearby, eager and willing to help with the kids, and a new house…well, these sides of myself find many reasons to be at perpetual odds. And besides, maybe I’d simply melt under an actual sun. I’m built for the cold physically if not psychologically.