Snow Day

We recently passed a date that's burned into my head: October 16th. This is the date of the first snow my first winter in the Chicago area -- a particularly bad winter -- but one I loved since I'd never seen snow that big before. At the time, I went around starry-eyed and beaming more often than not, and I would not hesitate to throw myself down in a snowdrift for fun, to stay out late talking on a "romantically" frozen beach, or walk around outside with wet hair.

My hair froze a lot that year.

I need to remember that winter because this winter will be coming sooner than not, and last winter was a time of hibernation. Partly I was still numbed by the blinding, buzzy shock of LA and the silly jobs I did there, partly working through the detritus of a failed relationship, partly dealing with the lack of light -- which I wrote about in my very first entry for this blog. I didn't spend last winter sad -- I finished a draft of my novel, performed in plays, made new friends, kissed in the snow -- but I did spend last winter sleepy.

This winter I'll be wide awake. Even if it means buying a bike and learning to ride it in the snow. Even if it means joining a gym.

Or a cult.

Whatever it takes.