It hasn’t snowed here yet and Thanksgiving has already passed.
I’m worried about you this winter. I know the way you fear the way winter captures you. The way it comes and never leaves. The way it cages you with it’s cold, a prison even theatres and snow sports can’t breach. I spent the season filling your time so you’d never feel the weight of those chains. The weight is still on me.
I’m worried about your new New York life and the winter there. Will you make it through the heavy snowfall falling asleep to dvds of old sitcoms and the hum of the fish tank? Can you cheat the early sunsets and too much dark in one day with bread pudding in the oven and shark on the grill? Will you barbeque it in your socks from the kitchen floor while it starts to snow?
Be okay this winter. Christmas is coming, bringing months of East Coast snow.