Monday, March 23, 2009
82. Dear Winter
I know that we had quite a fling, the last few months had been fun. But it got old. We grew apart. I no longer wanted to frolic in your snowy goodness like I did as a child, I no longer can spend hours on the ski hill like I used to, and frankly, all your snow has gone limp. They say that two people can grow apart and want different things, I think that's what happened. I used to adore spending long nights together, staring out the window with a warm beverage while you painted my neighborhood white, but I don't want to do that anymore.
I want to go outside in my kicks and run around in a tight leather jacket. I want to plant seeds in a garden to grow tomatoes and beans. I want to walk down the street with the warm sun on my face. I miss the birds chirping, chipmunks running around, and I even miss the cruise ship tourists.
We have run our course, but you just don't get it. We're over. I want to move on, but you keep trying to get back in. I don't want to succumb to more short days and long nights with all those slushy days where I come home with salt stains on my pant legs and cold, wet feet. That's not what I had in mind. Please take the hint, we're done. I'm over you. Please leave. I met this new guy, his name is Spring, I think there might be something there and I'd really like to see if something could come of it. He has an older brother too, Summer, it could be fun.
I hope you do well elsewhere, I hear there's a girl named Australia who is breaking up with Autumn, maybe she'll take you. I wish you all the best.
Yours sincerely, Gwen.