I’ll miss looking out at the snow and the cars sliding through our intersection. I’ll miss soup and boots and coziness and hot chocolate and Christmas lights and blankets.
But I’m ready to put my coat away and go for walks and plant some things and do everything else that comes with the new season, so I’m glad you’re on your way out.
You are leaving, right? Not just tricking us? I don’t trust you an inch, winter.