Dear Weather,
I know that you’re kind of unpredictable at best. Maybe you’ve taken the whole repeated playing of “White Christmas” since, what, Halloween to heart. Maybe you thought to yourself, “You know, it’s been awhile. Maybe I’ll give it a go this year.” Maybe you just feel like throwing wrenches in the works of peoples’ plans.
But listen to me, Weather. White Christmases are overrated.
I know. I know. Everyone wants one except those people who moved to warmer climates specifically to avoid them. And perhaps if I didn’t want a White Christmas, I should move my family as well. Except that we’d be far away from our families, which is the high point of our holiday celebration — however aggravating those said family members might be. We love to spend our holidays with our families.
And if you dump a bunch of snow on us, we won’t be able to drive to Pennsylvania to spend Christmas with my family. We haven’t spent Christmas Day in Pennsylvania since 2006. And if you ruin that? Well, Weather, I’m going to have some choice words for you. In fact, while cussing at you, I might cry. And you don’t want to make this woman cry — ON CHRISTMAS — do you?
I didn’t think so.
Don’t get me wrong. I like snow. In fact, I’m one of those people who loves snow. And, really, a White Christmas is beautiful. If you just gave us enough to cover the grass but magically kept the roadways clear and free of ice and snow, well, I’d be thrilled!
You see, Weather, this is our first Christmas without Grandpa. And as hard as it is going to be, I need to be home this year. I need to be there so my Grandma can focus on my dyed red hair instead of her sadness. I need to give my dad a hug. And help my mom in the kitchen. And let the noise and speed and glee of our noisy, speedy, gleeful children distract everyone else from the empty spot at the table.
I’m sure we’ll make it work if we have to stay home. We’re buying a backup ham. There are phones. And webcams.
But, please Weather, just a dusting this Christmas, okay? The Farm already looks lovely. It’s really all I want this year.
Sincerely,
FireMom