Sticking around When Storms Come

I so enjoy watching Tom Skilling on WGN. He loves weather. He waxes eloquent about precipitation, jet streams, low-pressure systems, and statistics that compare this year to other years. He stated this year that we in Illinois had our 3rd coldest and snowiest winter on record (and that record goes back to 1884). Ouch!

John and I talked more this winter than ever about relocating someday to a warmer place.  And we made the mistake of checking the weather in Denver frequently: 50°F and sunny (!) when our thermometer read -10°F.

Alas, we know that we need to stay here and face next winter, and the next. . . . Maybe if I keep watching Tom Skilling, some of his enthusiasm for harsh weather will wear off on me.

When life sends storms my way—the death of a loved one, depression, physical illness—I find that I react much as I would to physical weather situations, such as a long winter. I just want to relocate, move to a warmer, kinder, gentler climate where all seems happy and good. And when storms hit a friend’s life, I fight the same urge. Storms create mess, and that makes me nervous. I would happily just see and talk about good weather.

What about you?