I remember Rhode Island winters being unbearable with its mounds of snow, frozen windshields and wipers, black-ice roads and dry-cracked lips, but since I arrived winter feels like nothing more than a chilly spring.
I put a windbreaker over a sweatshirt and keep my gloves in the left pocket just in case. Once I start moving the winter cold isn’t all that bad. Mornings and nights are the worst of course, but it’s nothing a hot cup of tea or coffee can’t remedy.
My favourite part is watching the wind take my breath after I exhale into the evening air. I know it’s such an ordinary thing, but I haven’t seen It in a while and it’s that sort of ordinariness that jogs back childhood memories.
When I mention my breath to people they don’t seem to understand how significant it is to me. To them it’s another daily occurrence. To me it’s a reminder of where I come from.