Kii

United States

Say, what is "time"?

Is it the present of existence? But then it would make the past a reminiscence and the future non-existent.

Message to Readers

I don't actually hate December, but I do despise the weather. I've experienced different types of December weather and it isn't as surprising as you think about it. For 6 years I've lived in a state that is known to be hot year round, but since the end of November, the temperature has been 48-56 degrees Fahrenheit each day. Climate-change sure is terrible.

Anyways, I would definitely appreciate all tips and feedback! Even if it's harsh I don't mind :)

My loathsome seasonal feelings

December 2, 2019

    I've lived in multiple places, mainly ranging in the north part of the U.S. and I've had my fair share of experiences with the weather. Although, after moving and living down south, I begun to notice how weak I actually was. Before I could appreciate the cold and hot weather up North. In the south it is usually hot where I live and the temperature stays static. I have thrown away those longing feelings of returning to the North. Instead I'll opt for the nicer unchanging seasonal temperature and weather. Alas, nothing stays forever, unless forever stays nothing.
    Throughout my 6 years of living in the south, the state I reside in being known as Arizona, I have been enchanted by the state's natural beauty. The disturbance of the wintry season being the absolute despicable weather. I hate it.
    Whenever I think back to the winter seasons and cold weather, I am reminded of so many things I can list of my hatred towards it. I'm not the "Grinch" or someone with a terrible childhood. I just despise the cold weather and being unable to understand anyone's compassion towards the season. Yes, Christmas is a joyous time. To be happy, To be with family, and to be surrounded by the happy holiday cheers. Then again, I don't celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa. I just like to snuggle up with nice warm fluffy blankets and sleep away in the coldness. To me, the season of December is like a time of thought. Thinking back to my year and how it has progressed. Worrying about the incoming year that wouldn't be long. Even as the years progress and change, I won't. I'll always be the same person as I was the last. Maybe even slightly different, but I won't ever change, because like the last season it hasn't changed. 
    Something that hasn't changed is myself. There's a memory that I always remember. As painful and unwanted as it is, I still to this day remember it with vivid detail. The winter snowstorm whispered against our cheeks. Numbing our soft-flesh with every drop from the snow. My 6-year-old tiny palm grasped tightly with my mom. The only heat that connected us through that traumatizing event that has scarred me for life. My mom and I were walking through the rough snowstorm that reached all the way to my 6-year-old knees. Walking through that slush was harder than you would expect. I wasn't as mentally strong, but I had to persevere and walk through the slush. It wasn't long till the cold started to numb my feet. I felt like all my energy and morale was drained from this snowstorm. I quickly lost the will to continue on. I was just too tired and mentally exhausted to fight the weather who was way stronger than I was. I was like a lifeless body, a soul who has lost the will; empty. Although, my mother was strong. She wasn't broken, she was moving forward with each step. Dragging and pulling my hand with her through each step she took. She reassured me that at the end of our path is warmth and happiness. She could only keep talking to me and whispering these childish promises in order to revitalize my lost spirit. And, it worked. She was right. It didn't take long before we reached the store. I was wrapped in the warmth inside the building and my puffy red cheeks were rubbed against with a scarf my mom later bought for me. I was taught an important lesson to look forward and never give in. Even if there are things to hold you down and to kill your spirit. My mom taught me that December should not be taken lightly, but to rather face it head-on with resolve and the strength of mentality.
    Interpreting this short portion, questions arise of why I consider it a traumatizing memory. That is because, there is a second part. In the beginning, getting somewhere is easy, but getting back is the hardest.
    When we left the store with the bags of groceries and with a stronger and newer resolve, I was determined to tackle the snowstorm just like my mom how she did getting there. Our resolves were futile. The snowstorm only got colder and harder. Each step felt like a freezing icicle that held down my legs heavily. The warmth that wrapped my small body was gone. Destroyed and frozen. Even this time, my mom was giving in to the storm. We were loosing our will to fight it. The path that we were so awfully familiar of seemed like an endless crossroad that only repeated itself every time you went forward. Our thoughts scattered across our minds and every part of our body numbing down with each decrease in temperature. At some point we even stopped, but I pulled my mom's hand. Tugging it to move forward because if we didn't we would lose to the storm. This hateful despicable storm. We can not be defeated by nature and move onward to home. Even if I had lost my will, my spirit, and my resolve. I won't lose what I know is important. Without defeating this storm, the night that held important things in my life wouldn't be the same. To me, this snowstorm was my enemy. I hated it. It was trying to take everything away from me. With my remaining strength, I mustered my courage and moved forward like how my mom did. This time I would be the one to hold all my wishes in one combined force. I would be the one to go against the December weather with all I have.
    My strong feelings were granted and we got back home with the remaining push.

I would never forget how cold it is in a snowstorm. The memory of it is left frozen in my mind. It would probably never melt away, nor would my hatred for it.

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