Florida Winter Guilt

The winter of ’95-’96 changed my perception of winter forever. I was a junior at Mount Holyoke College. And the snow kept coming. Mother Nature had programmed a pattern of massive two foot snow blizzards every Thursday afternoon. I remember the blizzards seemed at their worst while stuck in the dredges of February. As the heater would steam and clank and whistle in my room and as the science lab work piled up – I’d stare out at the silent white storm snow globing flakes up, down and across my window. And I had all sorts of crazy “I’m going to lose my ever loving mind” Shining-esque thoughts. I had finally found hate for winter.

That May – yes, it took three more long months – I stepped outside one morning. There was sun. And not only that, it warmed my face. WARMED MY FACE. I stopped, I closed my eyes, I tipped my face up. And I started to cry a little bit. Warmth, light, sun made that much of a difference. I will never forget what real, outside warm air felt like that morning as I took off down the hill sporting rumpled shorts worn a very distant 9 months prior.

Five years ago, my husband and I moved to Florida. It seemed almost a joke at the time. I mean come on. We found a job for him in Florida? Near my brother and offering a much cheaper cost of living (after spending two winters stuffed into crappy faculty housing with one bedroom and an 18 month old baby). We considered it an adventure. Sure we’ll go.

The years have gone by, we bought a home, we had another child, we are Floridians it seems. And it blows our minds that we are raising children with no concept of snow or real, freeze your eyelashes and bust your pipes kind of cold. (It doesn’t count if they can’t remember seeing snow, right?) Palm trees lining the streets have lost their novelty. I hardly look twice at the resident alligator sunning himself on the bank of a small lake I jog past regularly. Caribbean style beaches lined with tiki huts are an hour’s drive and Disney is less than two hours.

But it’s February, and I know. I read tweets, facebook updates, emails and hear from my loved ones. February is fricking miserable most other places in the U.S. Spring seems forever off. The snow keeps piling up and the sun won’t warm jack.

And you know what? I feel guilty.

I have somehow adopted a crazy kind of guilt complex regarding Florida weather. I LONGED for the everyday here when I lived north. Dreamt of it, wished for it, and drove to it over spring break. So now that we get it, all the time, oh my God. I just feel bad. I want to share it. I want everyone to come on down. I want to plunk every family member and wonderful friend in my backyard lounge chair and let the sun warm their faces. I want to heal their winter misery. I want to give what I get to them.

Snort. If I was reading this from my frozen dorm all those years ago, I kind of might want to kill me right now. Really. Isn’t that generous of little ol’ Floridian me? Oh how nice of me to even THINK of us northerners while we wish for power back in our homes, dole hundreds of dollars out the window for heating oil and try not to die on our icy commutes to work everyday.

And I think I’d be wishing that resident alligator might take a sudden liking to Floridian me as I ran past. Chomp chomp, palm tree bee-atch.

But then there are people who do come down for vacations and I breath a sigh of relief. Hurray! Ok! See? You can feel some warmth! Step right up. But then? When the weather is cold and rainy and the sun doesn’t warm jack, even in FLORIDA – I feel bad again. What the hell is this? People deserve to feel warm when they come down here. Come ON. If we get good weather most of the time, visitors should have a guaranteed pass! I find myself apologizing for 40 degree temps while pointing at my browned palms, insisting this isn’t natural, and to come back soon and see for yourself!

Because what warmth I feel on my face belongs to every suffering, wintered soul, sharpening their axes on the weather reports promising more snow, thinking how they will hack their way through their front doors, determined to find Spring while screaming “Here’s Johnny!!!” I so get it.

Uh-huh. Shut it, Caroline. Go back to your flip flops and boring palm trees. We don’t care how bad you feel for us.

Not that Florida is all that and a bag of key lime chips with a Corona chaser. Not that we don’t long for gorgeous fall days with crispy leaves or crackling fireplaces on Christmas Eve. Not that Florida’s sun makes up for the culture and family and roots we’ve left behind far far north of here.

And as my friend who recently moved from Florida to Chicago said to me only yesterday, “When spring comes, it will be wonderful and appreciated and I will never take good weather for granted again”. Because, we do here. And that’s not OK either.

Still we get sun and my loved ones don’t right now. So, still with the guilt.

I am probably somewhat certifiable to personally take responsibility for all the winter hate flaring within frozen hearts across our nation. Only I would need to apologize for the temperate norms which are predictable and expected for this little spot on the globe.

But I will never forget what winter means elsewhere.

And just wait. After a winter as hellish as this one (which has resulted in snow on the ground in 49 states), we’ll get ours with a whopper of hurricane which will rip out our electricity and make our roads impossible to drive on. Weather karma maybe?

Again with the guilt.

But how about I offer my lounge chair. To anyone. Anytime. I’m embarrassed to admit that I am rarely out there (the irony, I know – snow or sun, life is busy and doesn’t offer too many moments in a lounge chair) but you are more than welcome to stretch out and feel that sun we seem to have so much of.

Wishing February will pass quickly and there will be early spring warmth in all 49 states soon.

Post script: This one was close to being deleted. I swear my intentions are good, but no matter how much guilt I feel for sunshine in February, I can’t help but feel like this post comes across a tad… well… smug. Clearly, my guilty suffering is no match for any February up north. So just know that I know that. But I will leave it. Because I keep it real. And because after all that writing I hate to toss anything (which I really do need to learn how to do more often… that and fix the filter between my head and my mouth/writing).