Going to Chicago

All anyone ever wants to talk about is the cold.
As if I am entering forbidden territory
A labyrinth
Or an Evangelical Church.
Chicago, eh?
they say
You ever been to Chicago in the wintertime?
No.
I was in New York once in January,
But it was 70 degrees.
Must have brought the Santa Ana’s
in my suitcase.
I’ll take the cold please.
The challenge,
The shock,
To cut through all my former me’s.
The she who wouldn’t leave home
So she ended up enrolling in purgatory
Some forbidden land outside of LA
Where life became Depressing and
Oppressive
like the heat.
The me who hated sweaters as a baby
and cursed the gods every time it rained.
I scoff at the audacity,
The gall to pass myself off as weak
so early.
No, not so.
I was a woman of twenty
Who went to the Midwest
On the eve of her birthday
Who turned 21
On Midnight
When it was below freezing.
I took a picture of the thermometer
As if to say,
Look at me now, bitches!
I battled the beast.
And when it first snowed
I became giddy.
Awoke in my bed next to my sleeping lover,
Took a look out the window and…
GASP
Hoo-wee!
Git a look at that thar snow honey!
Looks like somethin’ from a movie.
See, this is what I always think of when I see snowdrifts on shrubbery:
Wal-Mart
Cheap plastic trees
Covered in the snow my dad disdained so.
As if our desiccated California pine
Had any place in our bright dusty living room
On Christmas mornings.
Now I know what “real snow” looks like.
And,
Yes, I have experienced the cold.
I even saw it drop into the ‘teens
So, I say,
When people ask about the weather,
It is freezing,
Not windy yet.
No,
I’m making it out of here before it gets the best of me.
But I have experienced the cold.
Each successive day,
My. Coldest. One. Ever.
And I relish it,
Thinking,
Ha!
I can do this
(As long as I’ve got that down jacket Elly lent me)
I can do anything.