We are still in the middle of
winter. I guess it’s only after coming to America that the weather has become a
constant companion. When I step out, I always make sure I check the AccuWeather
app, something that I never did in India. I only had to check outside the
window to determine if it was safe to step outside or not. If it’s windy and
cold, I’ll have to bundle up my toddler into layers. Thermals, jacket, hat,
gloves, socks, boots. The same goes for me. I have a large carton that I use to
store warm clothes. Once spring arrives, which is a long way to go, I will pile
up all the winter clothes, hoping I won’t have to pick them up for a long time.
On this side of America, where I
live now can get cold to 0 degrees in Celsius which now I have learned to track
in Fahrenheit as well. Though it’s not my first winter, I complain and lament
about this dark and moody weather to every person that I meet. It somehow finds
its way into everyday conversations with my Uber driver, my neighbors or my
family. But by the end of January or early February, I am usually not
complaining much because by then I have realized that the weather switch is not
in my control and I might as well learn to live with it.
Back in India, I muse about my days
in sun, missing the warm rays falling on my skin. Now, however, my friends from
India tell that the rays are scorching. Still, I feel it must be good to sweat
than being loaded up in sweaters and jackets all the time for six months
together. I feel that my connection with the sun has become special after
coming here. Because I only get to feel the sun for five months or so, I have come
to hold a special corner for the sun in my heart.
While I deal with winter through a
different perspective (complaining and lamenting and finally, admitting that I can’t
do anything about it), it’s my son’s attitude towards the wintry mix that
surprises me the most.
Yesterday, we were out in the snow
because there is only so much you can do indoors. And there are times when
being inside the walls of the house, we drive each other crazy that can end in
fist fights. Not a pretty sight! So, like a sensible woman, I dress my son in snow
pants and the many endless accessories designed to keep him warm. I dress up as
well and before I can lock my door, my son is already near the entrance
dragging his dump truck along.
Outside, it’s near to 3 or 4 degrees
which is actually not bad because that is the warmest it can get on most days.
Besides, the weather has a way of making you strong. It puts you into really
bad temperatures on some days that even a slight rise can seem bearable. Still,
it was considered a great day to be outside because there was no wind and the
sun was playing peek-a-boo.
Veeeee, veeeeee, veeeeee. My toddler
is busy scooping ice into his bright yellow truck and emptying it. This goes on
for twenty minutes. And I begin to feel the cold seeping into my fingers and
bones even though I am dressed appropriately. I curse under my breath and yell
at my son to get inside because I am not enjoying the weather anymore and all I want is a cup of hot tea hugging my hands.
But this is so much fun. Don’t be a
spoil sport, please. He seemed to be saying. But what he actually did was to
ignore me as long as he could and enjoy his game of climbing and sliding on the
snow.
Unlike me, who is constantly
looking at the calendar hoping for April to roll by quickly, so I can enjoy the
sun in May, my four-year-old isn’t bothered by the seasonal changes. He knows
to adapt because he knows how to make the most of it. Because, by the end of
the day, be it warm or cold, it’s having fun that matters.
May be, I should try joining him in
the snow one of these days and see for myself because with every coming season,
this won’t last forever as well.
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