I feel the hairs in my nose freezing. They’re literally getting crispy.
I’m hurrying to school, not because I’m late, which I am, but because of the cold. The walking warms me up. Still, my face feels the chill.
My jacket, the one under my leather coat, has a hood. I could put it on, but I like feeling the brisk air around my head. I tie my scarf well, though, because I hate the cold spreading down my neck.
I glance around to notice the people beside me and in front of me. The women still wear miniskirts, but now they supplement with tights underneath. Some of the men double up with tights too, but they don’t advertise this the way the women do.
It dropped below zero Fahrenheit a couple hours ago (-18 degrees Celsius). Now it’s probably in the healthy single digits, maybe even 10 degrees Fahrenheit. The wind makes sure it doesn’t feel too cozy, though.
Last week at a retreat, someone asked if I like the winter. I said yes. If not, I’d be hating away like a quarter of my life. I like bundling up. I like wearing two pairs of gloves. Seeing my breath and noticing my nostrils turns out to feel pretty novel too.
I love the winter. I love the cold. But yeah, I think I’m putting my hood up now.
