I hate it when it’s in the sky and when it’s on the ground. I hate it when it’s in the clouds and while it’s falling down.
I sit inside and clutch my tea and try hard not to cry but as each snowflake hits my car, inside I want to die.
The plows go by, the salt does fly, and my alarm screams in my ear; I close my eyes, I clutch my pillow and wish I wasn’t here.
I don my hat and zip my coat and grip my keys real tight; I take a breath, unlock the door and step into the white.
I kick my wheels and scrape the ice and mutter under my breath; my lips are chapped, my nose is red, I would honestly welcome death.
I make it halfway to the door, my tears begin to freeze, and as I walk up my front steps, I stop… the dog still has to pee.
I refresh my email one more time and pray for canceled class; no new messages, my stomach sinks, my heart shatters like glass.
My gloved hands grip the steering wheel, my tires spin in place; the dashboard vents blow frigid air, I cannot feel my face.
The worst part of all of this? I’m so glad you asked.
Tomorrow I’ll wake-up and put on my make-up and do it all again; and I’ll scream it aloud as I don my snow shroud, why the hell do I live in Michigan?!
Click here for last week’s Chat with the Chief focused on feminism.