During my first winter in the Midwest, I learned something about myself. I love the cold! It's not just the snow that I love, even though that is my favorite part! I love the implications that come with the cold. I love wearing layers of clothing and feeling as though I'm constantly covered in a fluffy blanket. I love wearing warm hats and gloves. Mostly, I love that I don't walk outside and immediately feel sweat dripping out of every pore.
Now, I understand why most Mid-westerners are not thrilled by the idea of winter. I admit, lots of basic tasks are much more inconvenient when there is snow covering the ground. Just last week, I experienced the horror that is scrapping ice off the windshield of my car. I spent nearly 20 minutes attempting to do a thorough job, then opted to just use my defroster and hope it was good enough. Then, not too long after, I was informed from my roommate that, if my gas tank isn't full, it could freeze and cause damage to my car. In that moment, I began to ask, "Who would even bother having a car with this kind of climate?" It was all too much and I understood then why people moan and groan when I shout with excitement at the first sign of snow.
I do understand the struggles. However, as a southern kid who never even tried hot chocolate before moving to the Midwest, I think it should be pretty obvious why I love the cold so much. Imagine growing up in a climate where 85 degrees is an uncommonly chilly day. Imagine waking up on Christmas day, walking outside, and feeling the heat beating down on your skin. To some people, that sounds glorious, but to people like me, that doesn't sound like Christmas at all. See, in my hometown, we were taught about the difference seasons of the year, but we only ever experienced one: summer. And, trust me, summer gets old after 18 years.
One specific memory lingers in my mind when I think about how clueless I am when it comes to different types of weather. Last year, my first year away at college, I road in the passenger seat of a friend's car. I looked down and saw an ice scraper for the windshield, but I stared at it in confusion. I didn't know the function. To me, it looked like a useless piece of scrap metal. So, I asked her what it was. She stared at me in confusion of her own for several seconds before busting out laughing, realizing that I had every right to ask that question. What purpose would I have for an ice scraper?
There is so much about the cold that I have yet to experience. I still want to build a snowman. I still want to go sledding down a large hill. I still want to have a real snowball fight. The problem is that so many people around me completely despise the cold. I can't very well have a snowball fight by myself.
So, to those of you who have played in the snow with me before, you're my hero! Thank you for understanding my curiosity and wonder. For the people who grew up with such harsh winter weather, believe me when I say that I understand the evils of the winter, but to us foreigners of the cold, winter is magical. You don't have to like the cold. In fact, I admit that it can get frustrating after a while. I'm only suggesting that, when your southern or foreign friends want to play in the snow and wear gloves in 40 degree weather, let them! The way you feel about the cold is likely the way we feel about the heat. I can't promise, at least in my case, that you won't grow exasperated by us, but I can promise that we will be forever grateful for your willingness to walk alongside us through a new experience.
