An Open Letter to March

Dear March,

I’m sorry. There, I said it. I’m not really sure why I felt that I had to lash out at you like I did, but no matter what I was feeling at the time, it wasn’t fair to you. Some of the the things I said were absolutely horrible, and I don’t blame you if you won’t immediately forgive me for my written transgressions. You see March, the winter was particularly hard. And boy was it ever long. It was soul crushing really, and I just figured you’d give us more of your same old crap and provide us with a snow storm or two, unseasonably cold temperatures, and a spate of windy, bone chilling days. I expected you’d come to town all disheveled like usual, and hurl your insulting mix of miserable weather right into our laps. That’s what I expected, but you really came through for me this time.

It might have had something to do with my previous commentary about you. I’m sure you’re the paranoid type who routinely Googles your own name, searching for those who might put you down or write generally derogatory things (truths) about you. Maybe you read what I wrote and figured that I was just some guy in need of a little warm weather. A guy who existed long enough without feeling the sun’s warmth on my pasty skin. If you figured that, you were right on. And if you figured that and provided me with one of the finest spring months on record, then for that I will be seasonally grateful. I knew you weren’t really buying into that silly “in like a lion out like a lamb” routine. You came in like a lamb, if I remember correctly, and well, 70 degrees and radiating sunshine could only be considered lion like in the minds of the most ardent heat lover.

So while I’m appreciative, and pleased with the display you put on here in Lake Geneva last month, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I might like you now, but by no means do I like like you. I’m too old and too jaded to think that this new about face is really the “new you”. Change is difficult, and until I see a repeated pattern of sustainable change, I’ll assume this balmy effort you gave me just might be similar to 30 degree nights in Marco Island I also experienced this winter- a fluke. That’s right, I said it. I don’t believe you when you say you’ll change. You can pound on my door all you want and I don’t have to answer it. You cannot treat someone the way you’ve treated me for most of my 32 years and then expect, with one triumphant turn of events, that I’ll just forgive and forget. I might forgive you for now, but my memory is sharp, and I have an uncanny ability to hold grudges. Particularly against seasons.

So for now, let’s try to move on. I’m going to try to remember you for the sun filled, dry, warm month that you just showed me you can be. You cannot let down your guard and think that everything is okay between us now. If you think I’m going to be drawing hearts around your name similar to the ones that Chad Rogers draws around pictures of Starley Cakes, you’re dead wrong. I’m going to have a very pleasant memory of your 2010 performance, but 2011 is another year. I’m going to be another year older then, and probably a touch more cynical, which means you’re going to have to really step up next year if you wish to impress me for two years in a row.

March, I thank you for showing me your brighter side. I’m now anxious to see if April can hold up his end of this deal, and while I fully expect him to bring his showers, I hope he’ll follow your lead and have the good sense to bring them only at night. Rain helps me sleep better, but thunder wakes up my kids. I’m just saying, April, it might be nice to mind your P’s and Q’s.

Love,

David