Brrr! It’s cold, I think as I go to the bathroom and put a robe on over my nightgown. Out of the room I walk to my desk on my porch, shaded with yellow-bell vines so I can write without the security guards across the street staring at me. The sky is beginning to turn blue. There is peace in the air. But it is cold. It is winter in our summer country.
Why do I feel so cold? I wonder, feeling pleased. I have been in colder places. San Francisco was cold in the winter and in the summer. Mark Twain made his famous remark: "There is no winter as cold as a summer in San Francisco." Winter there was deathly cold to me. I had to wear so many clothes. First my winter underwear, long leggings and a long-sleeved T-shirt made of light wool that warmed you. Then a flannel blouse, a sweater, a coat, a scarf, a hat, then my winter coat and boots. I felt so heavy then. When you entered the office you had to strip down to your sweater because the rooms were so well-heated. Then at five you had to put everything on again to survive the walk home. I remember it would get dark at four and I would be anxious walking home.
Winter there was somewhat depressing. First, it was so cold and it would rain. Strong winds would blow up the streets – wind chill that pulled the temperature down. I had to wear a hat constantly because my head always felt so cold. I felt I had a frozen brain, blank, unable to think. You could not wait for summer when it would become very hot for two weeks and you could feel your sweat trickling down your back. Then you would remember the summers at home in the Philippines and you would get homesick. Oh, let these hot summer days last, you prayed, and sometimes they did for 10 to 15 days. Then the coldness of fall would come, slowly building up to the iciness of winter.
For some reason I remember Switzerland, where once I began a winter. It was so cold. If I could have wrapped my face up with a woolen shawl I would have. My eyes were always tearing. The skin on my face wanted to crack from the cold. My nostrils hurt when I breathed. I had to walk a short block to school but when I got there I felt frozen, like I had icicles for hair. It was too cold for me in winter but there was snow and it fell so softly and charmingly around you. I would stare out the window at the snow falling, pondering each flake, imagining how it would look through a microscope, like icy lace flowers. How beautiful they were.
This morning I woke up feeling very cold. Okay. It is not the coldest temperature I know, but I am cold and thrilled. It is winter in my country, a summer country where the sun shines hotly down bringing with it dust, dirt, perspiration, bad moods, very, very hot – almost boiling – weather. Every summer I swear it gets hotter than the last one and I am tempted to curse the weather endlessly as air conditioners fail to cool enough. But this week it has been cold. Walk on the street, watch the young ladies wearing jackets and turtleneck sweaters. We must enjoy this weather, live it to the fullest; it won’t last long. Let us have fun and smile at the nip in the air, the cool breeze past midnight. Let us be grateful for this respite and hope that the memory of it makes us survive summer gracefully.
Brrr, it’s cold. I write that with a warm smile. It won’t last long. Let’s enjoy it while it’s here.