Dear friend who doesn’t know anything about 32 degrees in April other than the angle on their protractor,
The sun does shine in Wisconsin. It just shines in its own unique way.
Today it was very windy and my winter hat flew away. I thought I felt a snowflake again, but as it turned out it was actually just a really, really cold raindrop.
You may be gloating, wondering why I would choose to apply, tour and accept admission at a university located in the armpit of the Midwest — a misleading term, admittedly, since it’s rare to sweat in subzero temperatures. Meanwhile, you indulge in the warmth and face no risk of frostbite for five out of ninth months of the academic year.
The naivety warms my cold heart, and cold skin, and cold hair and cold everything else. I’m sure it must be nice for you to live in a state where the month of April delivers on it’s promise of fresh flowers, light rain and warm skin. But you have no idea what you’re missing here.
No one is here to doubt the sun is charming. But don’t you feel a little left out knowing you have to make your own ice cubes, when the water in my water bottle freezes all on its own?
And doesn’t it get boring to be able to feel your fingers, like, all the time? I don’t know, sometimes I just wonder if I would get exhausted stuck in that same pattern, knowing my blood was properly supplying life support to all organs and the extremities of my body.
As I scan over my weather app, I see not one, but two snowflakes on my weekly radar, and I feel alive. Do you know why? I feel alive because nothing signals the onset of this North American spring like thousands of women from Oconomowac, Wisconsin breathing new April soul into their tan Sorel winter boots, and zipping up that puffy down vest.
You may think you’re having the time of your life experiencing a proper college spring, sprawled out on the quad with only the sound of rustling deciduous leaves and live acoustic guitar music to distract you from your light studies. If only you could spend an afternoon drifting off to the sound of medium-to-heavy wheezing from asthmatics and athletes alike, chattering teeth and sloshing boots. Then you would feel what I feel — you would understand the magic I experience.
The constant gnawing at the back of our throats about the looming wrath of climate change upon us, as erratic weather affects every corner of the nation, keeps a smile on our face. And for a brief moment we can ignore the windy gusts of unidentifiable precipitation slapping against our faces.
Yes, friend who has never had to gamble feeling in her toes to make it to a class two blocks away two weeks after spring break, you heard me. You pay for your blowout. The Wisconsin wind endorses mine, and if I shower at the right time, the icicles in my hair keep it together.
And just to show you how serious I am, send me the link to the transfer application for your monotonous, simple-minded, reasonably seasoned university. Once the numbness in my hands subsides, you bet I am NOT going to fill that damn thing out.
But just send me the link, OK? I’m serious. Just for the hell of it.
