a winter girl defects

after the first snowfall I have hungered for summer 
once I longed for snow like a toddler for candy 
I have been cold’s accomplice, her best defender 
but now I shove my hair under a hood yet again 
and zip up to my nose against the wind 
that too is like a toddler in its obstinate energy
my eyes water and my words whip your stern sky 
just let me be warm be warm be warm 
let me be laid out unclenched with my underarms to the sun 
let something be soft
let life be a beach day not a battle
let me be warm 
I’m about to freeze in this fisted prayer position 
will you spin my globe and set me to summer,
reawaken this husk so like a tree 
I may gather my strength and stand again?

I wrote this in April, toward the end of a long, cold spring. I'm posting it now, at the beginning of what is supposedly going to be a record-breakingly hot summer, trying to remind myself that this heat I am hiding from was all I wanted a couple months ago.

If you ask me which I prefer, heat or cold, I always say cold. You can add more layers, after all. The other direction has a limit. I hate sweating and humidity and bugs. The only redeeming thing about summer for me is the beach.

But this year has been different. Some of my most formative memories are the years we spent in Virginia, when we were in shorts and T-shirts by mid-April. Ever after I’ve always felt a little offended when that isn't the case, even though I don't really like it to be hot that early. In that regard, this spring was extra offensive—I was pulling on my puffy jacket into May.

Usually, I like how the different seasons of weather mirror the different seasons of the soul. There are seasons to curl up and hibernate, and seasons to run through fields late into the slow-setting night. There are seasons of weeping rain and seasons of unsympathetic sun—and, fleetingly, seasons of soft breeze when you feel perfect in your skin.

The cold this spring matched the emotional intensity of the time. I huddled against the wind in my early morning walks and felt like I have never felt before this primal, desperate desire to be warm. I was tired of shaking, from the cold, from the stress. I didn't want a mirror. I wanted an open door into a world of relief.

And here I am, face tipped up to feel my fan in a late June heat wave. This past Wednesday, my roommates and I went to the beach, my first time this year. Today, walking outside felt like stepping into a sauna, moving in slow motion through the steamy air. We hugged the shadows of trees for respite. I complain about the heat, because what else is life but to complain about the weather you would have sold a limb for mere weeks ago, but really I am thinking thank you thank you thank you. You got me through.

He spun my globe and set me to summer, and we will be okay.

---

In Other Words…

I had two poems published in the lovely Calla Press online literary journal! One, “Upside Down and Inside Out,” was published first on here as part of my Advent series. The other, “recovering gnostic,” is brand-new. It's one of my favorites, so please check it out. And then read the many other wonderful pieces! It’s continually encouraging to see how many amazing communities there are of people celebrating art and beauty. Also, I may be posting a video of me reading “recovering gnostic” at an open mic night on Instagram so keep your eyes peeled there. ;)

Happy summer, friends. I hope it truly is happy for you. And if it isn't, I pray the season turns swiftly and soon and that you find some solace in the midst of it. The seasons do change, praise God. As Rilke says, no feeling is final.

to staying awake,

Aberdeen