we were not cut out for winter. our bodies were born and raised too close to the equator, too dependent on the constant and overbearing sun. hot-sticky-swampy floridians we were through and through. but the path of our life curved. a job is job; and so we found ourselves here, 1,200 miles north of home.

i knew one day we would trade back the snow for sandy shorelines; evergreens for palm trees; frozen lakes for crashing waves. every night below freezing, every wind chill warning made me anxious for warmth. i craved humidity that i knew would make my hair frizz, sticky, sweaty walks even in the early morning. i wanted to stand barefoot on asphalt in the evening and feel the heat seep into my feet long after the sun had gone down.

but i couldn’t help thinking i would miss it one day. this biting cold. winds that howl late into the night in the depth of winter. the boughs of trees heavy with freshly fallen snow. i was ready to leave, but i knew i would miss it one day when this place was just a memory. isn’t that the way it always seems to go?

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