The chilly shivers in the morning, the urge for a hot Starbucks drink and the stings of the cold fall wind biting at my face are foreign to me; I miss the feeling of golden rays, the condensation on my fingers from holding an iced coffee and the occasional gentle, summer breeze. The way the weather app reports the temperatures are unfamiliar to me— it’s been years since I’ve seen the number “50 degrees” or the little icon that shows thunderclouds. I was hoping to keep it that way, but reality looks different when you live in South Bend.
So as the last few rays of sunshine disappear behind the gray skies holding rain and snow, I want to make one earnest plea to the creeping winter clouds: please be gentle.
I’ll be honest: originally, I was excited for fall. I was thrilled with the thought of pairing my skirts with sweaters or accentuating my outfits with scarves and beanies; but South Bend, you’ve shown me that my Pinterest boards were made for the toughest who could actually tread through cold weather without feeling like death.
The walks to class are long, and freezing is the last thing I need to add to my busy Monday morning i. So as soon as the temperature dropped below 70, I pulled out my sherpa jacket, scarf and fuzzy sock to make my trek to Corbett Family Hall. That was, until, I saw my roommate leaving for class in athletic shorts and a t-shirt. I guess people from the Midwest don’t consider 70 degrees cold?
As you could have guessed it, I sacrificed warmth for fashion that morning. After all, who wants to be that one person pulling out winter wear in September? So that morning in an effort to keep my body warmth in, I walked from South Quad to Corbett Family Hall in 8 minutes. That walk normally takes me 12. I guess one positive is that the weather is keeping me efficient?
The other night, my hands were so cold I had to thaw them for a few minutes before I could even text my friend “wya.” That was the first time I realized that gloves are not just something you pack when you go skiing; it’s something that becomes a necessity here in the midwest. On some late night walks back from the library, I’ll feel so cold that my toes —through my sneakers and socks— start to feel numb. Just a me thing? Okay.
I worry for the days when I have to force myself out of the comfort of my cozy bed and into the cold wilderness. Will I be able to train myself to get out of bed regardless of how warm my bed is? Will I start to get seasonal depression? Are my winter clothes even enough for the incoming cold?
The questions that fill my head are endless. Don’t get me wrong: I love it HERE. But I am also terrified of the weather that will be here.