There’s Cold
and There’s COLD
I remember
December 28th
1981,
when my
daughter
birthed into
a frigid world
of 16 below
in Craig Colorado.
And then it
got really cold,
40 below for
two weeks running.
That’s when
my carpenter husband
jumped into his
truck
and the seat
cracked,
and he could
break off his beard.
When the
heater malfunctioned
and our baby
wore a snowsuit indoors.
When a washcloth
froze in our sink.
When it made
it up to 18 degrees,
and I told
my mom on the phone
that it felt
warm.
It’s hard to
imagine, now,
sailing on
the Caribbean Sea
after two
weeks of taking in the sun
at the beach,
kayaking and tubing,
and climbing
waterfalls in shorts and tee.
It’s hard to
imagine
as I head to
Florida,
then Arizona,
then back to Colorado
what it’s
going to be like
working at
the Nature Center
where sometimes
the snow
is measured
in feet, not inches.