I’m not sure how to say this perfectly, so please just
listen.
This year has been a tough
one. We have been together now for a
long time, and I thought you had changed.
I remember, several years ago, you were very cold; so cold, you’d take
my breath away. You would become cold,
and stay cold for months. And you just looked a mess. I was young then, so I didn’t mind, because I
knew you would come around. Actually, I rather enjoyed the change of pace,
and the challenge of weathering the storm.
I knew that eventually, you would be showing me the best side of
yourself; the warm, welcoming, radiant side. I thought that our relationship had
matured. I admit that I would explain to
the younger generation, that they didn't know you like I do, and that they don’t
know what commitment is because they leave as soon as they have any turbulence in
their life. A small part deep inside of
me very much appreciated your changes.
Regardless of the cause, I mistakenly thought you had grown to
understand that such extremes are dangerous to any relationship. In fact, just last year, I was telling
everyone how good you were to me, with much less severe reactions to this
changing world. Now, I understand that every relationship will
have its setbacks. But this year! This year was brutal! This was a year that cannot be explained
with the classic defenses of moodiness, hormones, the economy, work stress, or
even old age. You were relentless in
your series of storms followed by bitter cold, followed by more storms,
followed by long stretches of even more frigidity. I started to feel as though we would never be
warm again. I started to feel as though
you forgot HOW to be warm. I have
talked with many people, who tell me I should just leave you. They all say that I deserve better. They say that I could just pack my things,
and start a new life somewhere else. It
was unanimous. I eventually started to
agree that my life would be better without you. And then it hit me, in an ever so subtle
way. As I got out of bed one morning and
made a grunting sound because my back was tight, and my knee ached, I realized
that perhaps you haven’t changed. As my
son looked outside with excitement on a snowy April day, I realize that perhaps
I've become weaker and less forgiving. Perhaps I have changed. Perhaps, you were just being true to yourself. Am I really
that noncommittal that I can’t take one bad season in 30 years? Surely, I haven’t
always valued you as much as I should.
All those summers have passed that I didn't visit you even once. I could have taken a romantic walk on the
lake, or spent some money downtown to show how much I appreciate you. I apologize for those times I woke up cursing
you because I was going to have to shovel snow before going to work. I apologize for talking so badly about you to
all my friends. I apologize for thinking
I can do so much better than you. But
most importantly Chicago, I apologize for thinking that this miserable winter
was entirely your fault. Surely, I have
changed over the years as well, and I should be aware of my own shortcomings
and how my own weaknesses have contributed to my unhappiness. I look forward to the next six months
together, with the hope of spring flowers, summer sunshine, and fall
colors. After all, Chicago, you were
just being your unpredictable, ever-changing self. But honestly, if next winter is anything like
this one, YOU MAY NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!
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