Maybe one day I will be able to look back and say, wow, I survived the bitter cold in Chicago for over a decade. Alone.
Maybe one day I will remember nights when I languished. Like a towel wrung dry, twisted so hard that loose fiber hang like cut wire.
Maybe one day I will feel relieved that I never have to experience an unnatural state of being. A tropical island type of kid in subzero, Antarctic temperatures.
Maybe one day I will sit in a living room full of loved ones and feel warm.
Maybe one day I will be held, undconditionally. Maybe they will feel goosebumps through my wrinkly skin.
Maybe one day there will be someone wise and instinctive enough to know that this person I see before my eyes is someone I will never let go of. Because, damn.
Maybe one day I will remember the window installation I put up alone, for myself. Maybe I will still feel that same cramp in my right shoulder, a pain that creeps up to my neck and into the back of my head. A twinge, like snapped raw spaghetti.
Maybe one day I can rest a day or two from all this positive self-talk and just sit in my thoughts, feelings, emotions… and a waterfall of tears.
Maybe one day I can rest a day or two from strength and mental toughness.
Maybe one day I will miss days when I chugged through dirt and snow on my way to work, cussing loudly in my head, fists shaking violently at the sky in my imagination.
Maybe I will remenisce wet socks and dirty Nike Roshes from my commute. Maybe I will laugh at my impatience, or should I say silly love for my dog that I did not want him to wait an extra five minutes to be let out to pee. I opted to walk the 20 minute route in 0 degree Fahrenheit instead of waiting for the bus. For my dog. To pee.
Maybe one day I will remember the love I showed myself that carried me through the dreary Chicago days when the sun went on vacation for a few weeks.
Maybe one day I will remember my fear of subzero temperature and the moment when I conquered it.
Maybe one day I will remember nights when I talked to my dog and felt like he understood my hopes, dreams, anxiety, depression, self love, and my love for him.
Maybe one day I will pat myself on the back and tell me, “How far you’ve come, how strong you’ve been, what amazing stories you have!”
Maybe one day I will enjoy warmth in January.
Maybe one day I will not have to count months of winter left.
Maybe one day I will forget the number of people who let me down.
Maybe one day I won’t have anxiety about Spring since it might still be cold.
Maybe one day May will be hot as hell. The sun will scorch my skin and blaze my soul.
One day I will laugh at myself for living in Chicago for over a decade. Alone.
One day I may thank the bitter cold which inspired me to write.
One day I will take one last glance of the city, and breathe in slowy.
Breathe out. Then leave.