Nobody Wants a Charlie in the Box

I’ve never tried to keep it a secret that no matter what I do or how I try to change, it seems I’m always a misfit. I recall the Island of Misfit Toys from that wonderful Christmas classic, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and find myself nodding my head in agreement with the toys as they lament, “We’re all misfits!” Normal people, I’m told, love warmth and sunshine. Newscasters announce with dread their prediction of snow with phrases like, “Our good weather is over for a while” and “I hope you enjoyed the sunshine today because it won’t be around for a while.” I guess I am not normal. I don’t actually enjoy warmth and sunshine; in fact, too much of it makes me feel physically ill. Part of that is a result of my MS, but truth be told, I’ve always enjoyed grey, gloomy days over sunny ones and I would rather the ground be white than green.

You may think, “Okay, you’re strange. We already knew that.”

The problem is that’s not the only problem.

You see, being surrounded by people who enjoy the opposite of everything I do, makes life difficult even when the weather favors my tastes. I dread the months of May, June, July, and August. While everyone around me is posting Facebook statuses about how beautiful it is outside, I’m sitting inside with the air conditioning turned way down so the house gets cool enough for me to be able to accomplish even one small thing. When my favorite months of winter come around, those around me are so miserable that I can’t really enjoy them anyway. I understand that snow makes it more difficult to get places. I realize that I don’t have to drive in it…I get to stay home and watch it from the inside of a cozy house while cookies or a pie bake in the oven. That is certainly an advantage and one for which I am very thankful.

Still, in a world of sunshine-summer-loving people, I am definitely a minority. I can (and admittedly am) miserable in the summer weather, but those around me don’t care—they have the rest of the world on their side and they all share their happiness like a Kumbyah session around a campfire. When I try to be happy about my time of year, I am called strange and looked at like I have three heads. No one shares my love for this weather…I have no meteorologists to rally my cause and support my fondness for the cold and snow.

Perhaps I am being somewhat dramatic.

Perhaps it has just been a bad day that is getting to me.

Regardless, I will look out my window at the crisp white blanket and revel in the fact that my time of year is here once again. Yes, I will be hated for it. I probably should be used to it by now.


About becmom45

Wife of one, mom of four, mom-in-law to two, grammy to one precious little boy; lover of snow, autumn, pumpkins, cats, books, baking, Charles Wysocki puzzles, Christmas; honest, raw author who hopes what is written here enlightens and educates those fortunate enough to not understand the demons chronicled.
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