Winter Wonderland

Today is the last day of summer and I certainly felt it this morning. I woke up shivering under my light blanket, with the fan blowing and the window open. I turned on the heat in my car driving to work. THE HEAT. I'm sitting in long pants, a jacket, and a scarf and my hands are almost too numb to type efficiently (although let's be honest, I'm usually colder than the general population, plus I work in a freezer. Basically).

I know the last day of summer for most people is a time for nostalgia as they look back on all their adventures in the sun with their flip flop tan lines and cute sunglasses as they road-tripped across the US. I, on the other hand, found summer to be pretty similar to winter, other than the fact that we planted ourselves in front of our fan instead of our space heater. Is that sad? My swimsuit never saw the outside of its drawer. My skin never felt the touch of sunburn. I never slept anywhere but in my own bed. On one hand, I had a lot of fun doing random things with Sam but on the other, almost none of those things had anything to do with the fact that it was summer.

What does this say about my life? Does it matter that my summer vacation was pushed to Thanksgiving Break? Isn't it better that by December, my skin will be so white that it will scare young children instead of the tan beginnings of skin cancer? If one does not attend school, then why is summer defined as the time for fun anyway?

So bring it on, cold! I love your changing leaves, your first snow fall. I love the scarves and beautiful coats and boots you make me wear. I live for hot chocolate, new episodes of my favorite shows, fires in the fireplace, heavy quilts. I like waking up in the darkness of morning and the cozy feeling of warming up in the shower. I can't wait for Christmas music, colored lights, and the smell of cinnamon and pine.

So tonight when I shut the window and turn off the fan, I'll remember that spiders die in winter. How can it not be my favorite season?