Something Earned
Musings on sunny days and snowy nights.
The warm air in New York City at this time of year is a trap. The way the sun pops out from behind the gray expanse and flowers start to blossom; how birds start chirping again before first light; the way wool coats and thick beanies suddenly disappear in favor of linen shirts and oversized sunnies. It’s all a hoax.
Earlier this week, it felt like an ideal summer day: the temperature sat at 71 degrees, and the city was buzzing with people walking their dogs and others relaxing on blankets in Central Park. It wasn’t yet abandoned by locals who flee to sandier places.
But something was off. The warmth, and the shorts and Birks that come with it, didn’t feel earned. Not yet, not this soon.
After I left Hawaii last year, a common question people asked was, “How did you like living there?” Always followed by, “That must’ve been amazing.” True, partially. Hawaii is an amazing place. How could one not enjoy an island with both a natural rainforest and a bustling city, all within driving distance? Living on O’ahu occasionally felt normal, like we weren’t all trapped on a block of volcanic sludge in the middle of nowhere. It took only about five seconds to open Google Maps and zoom out to realize the island chain disappears into a sea of blue quite quickly. That’s a perk for many, to say nothing of the pace of life and year-round access to rooftop pools (and beaches, if that’s your thing). But that was exactly my issue with it. Year-round access meant warm weather all the time. Everything existed everywhere all the time. Variation didn’t exist. Seasons didn’t exist.
Change felt foreign, much like the island itself, which sits more than 2,000 miles from the mainland. Each day was much like a day in San Diego, minus the cold mornings and so much fog. Turning on the local news in Honolulu to check the weather was an exercise in watching the anchorwoman find creative new ways to describe slight fluctuations in wind speed. It often felt like Groundhog Day, with afternoons repeating again and again. (Though if one wants a bit of snow, it’s only a 45-minute flight to Big Island, where winter often brings fresh powder to the top of its mountain peaks.)
So much of the experience felt like a given, where summer is confused for fall and winter looks no different than spring. There was everything to be thankful for but very little to yearn for.
In writing, we talk about unearned outcomes. The way, for example, two characters may go through a traumatic breakup only to get back together again a few chapters later because every star in the galaxy somehow magically aligned. In New York, where just 24 hours after I donned a t-shirt and shorts for a run through Central Park and the stars magically aligned, snow fell from the sky. We were bamboozled, set up to believe the groundhog was wrong after all, that our wool coats were ready for vacuum-sealed bags and storage under the bed.
Not that I’m complaining. It wasn’t that long ago that I was begging for fleece pull-overs and hot lattes. At some point, one gets tired of being soaked in sweat from a quick trip to the corner bodega. In August, when ice cream melts on impact and dripping AC units provide a brief morsel of chilly relief, I couldn’t wait for lower temperatures. Then again, I was already coming from more than two years of straight summer. I needed a break.
But the recent weather about-face was just a preview, a look-ahead to what’s on the horizon: drinks at outdoor cafés, shirtless runs along the Westside Highway (slowly, because pale skin is tortured by the sun after a long winter), and afternoons with a book in the park. Had any of that been here to stay — that is, had summer begun in mid-March — it would’ve been unearned. I would’ve felt cheated from a seasonal transition, one I’d waited much longer than a single season to enjoy. A season not far removed from the shores of the Hawaiian Islands.
Though we likely still have a few more weeks of potential snowfall, it’s the anticipation of what’s to come that I enjoy. The knowing that longer days and warmer weather are within reach. The assurance that, by the end of a winter of several snowstorms and too much time inside, a yearning for brighter days will have been earned.