We’ve talked about this.
You know it hurts my feelings — and my fingers — when you’re this cold. You promised you’d try harder.
I understand if it’s hard to be warm first thing in the morning, I do. I need my space when I first wake up, too. So I don’t mind if I have to wear my hat and gloves on the way to work. But the forecast for today says you won’t even be breaking above freezing. I’d hoped to go for a walk with you this afternoon, but I guess that won’t be happening. We’ll just sit around inside like we always do.
And last night — all the blustering and throwing my porch furniture around, and knocking out my power for five hours. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic to sit by candlelight and look out the window at the darkened street. It’s just that I would have preferred you ask first. I had things I needed to get done, and work the next day. Next time maybe a weekend night would be better.
I know change is hard, March. I recognize that you’re trying. I don’t want to be one of those girls who nags her month all the time. There are so many things I like about you — maybe I should have led with those. That day last week when you got up to sixty degrees, the sun was shining and the snow melting into happy rivers all over town, and people posting e.e. cummings poetry on Facebook. That was amazing. And you’ve melted the huge snow piles down to at least half their size. I’ll always be grateful to you for that. But if you would put in just a little more effort, March, you could have the snow piles gone completely. I know you have it in you. Just a few more degrees today, for example, would continue the good work. I hate to push you. But it’s the 18th, you know. You’re supposed to come in like a lion, I get that, but isn’t it about time you started going out like a lamb? Lion time is over, March. Come on.
You know that I’m just getting out of a bad relationship with February. And I know it’s mean to compare you to my ex, but some of the things you do bring up bad memories. I think I’m still a little traumatized. I don’t mean to take it out on you, though. But if you could be a little more understanding. Maybe just a little bit warmer. Could you just try?
Thanks for listening, March. I have to go back out now, bundled up like it’s January or February or something. I know. You’re different than those months. I’ll try to trust you and be patient with you on your bad days.
Update: March 31st
I’m too sick right now to write you a long break up letter. I think we both saw this coming. Just leave your key on the table on your way out.