An Open Letter To Winter

You're lucky I like you, winter. Because some others don't. They try to exclude you, uninvite you, dislike you.

But I like you.

I like having an excuse to turn on the fireplace and get warm. I adore bundling up and heading out while the snowflakes are falling. I love nothing more than watching big, clumsy snowflakes make their way to their final resting place. (What? They DO know they're going to die there where they land.)

I like -no I LOVE- Egg Nogg. You can only get it at Christmastime but I would use it year-'round on my cereal if I could. My mom used to mix it with Amaretto and I'd do anything to be allowed to have a sip. I started young, Winter. But I don't blame you.

I like tobogganing until your toes freeze and your cheeks turn the impossible shade of pink that you wouldn't dare buy at a cosmetics counter. I like wool socks on hardwood floors and runny noses (as long as they're mine or my children's. I'm not wiping YOURS, sorry.)

I like the patterns of frost that you create on the windows and doors and refuse to believe it's inefficient heating in my home. So what? I still don't blame you, Winter.

I like icicles hanging and looking like dangerous teeth on the sides of buildings. You don't scare me, Winter. Your bark is worse than your bite.

And how about seeing my breath in the air? Isn't that just a wonderful phenomenon? Think about it! Crunching snow under your feet and knowing that it's REALLY cold outside and the snow is too cold to even pack. Saying "it's packy snow" and not feeling politically incorrect, because, well, it IS packy! And that means snowballs and snowmen! (It also means war, so keep your head up.)

Most of all, I love nostalgia stinging when I hear any music from Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph or any other movie that is completely inappropriate to watch in June. My youngest has been singing "Silver and Gold" with a perfect low tone and vibrato. I nearly died. He loves it, too. My oldest has learned the "Batman smells" part of Jingle Bells. My heart soared. This... THIS is all you, Winter.

So please, Dear Winter, bring us some snow for Christmas. I have my two front teeth, I cannot possibly house a hippopotamus (I have two dogs and a cat, you see. They won't get along.)

Bring us big, fat, clumsy snowflakes and howling winds and "packy" (yeah I said it...) snow and hot chocolate and numb toes and icicles and frozen ponds and frost patterns on our windows.

Bring us loving families gathered around to eat/drink/be merry. You can even bring the uncle that is only ever seen in family Christmas photos passed out on the couch; the one that has "too much Amaretto in his Egg Nogg".

Bring us peace and love and warmth this Christmas season. Bring it to every single family, rich and poor. Crappy presents, great presents, loving presence and snow.

Bring it on Winter. I like you, and everything you bring.

Sincerely,

Korinne.