A Note to the Weather
My name is Caitie Whelan. I am 34 years old. I live in Maine. I would like us to be friends.
But as I write this today, I was pissed at you. It’s April 8th and you snowed. What gives?
Last weekend, I had to wear sunglasses and my coat unzipped you shone so bright. I delighted in you, was delighted with you.
Maybe I’m a fair weather friend.
I walk around April like you owe me springtime. But you make no promises.
You are entitled to your rain, wind, hail like I am entitled to my tiredness, sadness, frustration. Neither of us can be sunlight all the time.
I know you don’t listen to my every word and I know you don’t work like this, but if I were you and I heard all the complaints about me - It’s so cold, I hate this snow, Why is it awful out today? - I wouldn’t feel too great.
Weather, you accept me as I am. You don’t bluster if I’m snappish or get cloudy if I’m irritable.
Perhaps I can accept you as you are. Even if I don’t, even if I criticize you and whine about you, you won’t change for me.
I respect your self-regard. I can learn from that. I don’t need to exist to please others or do what they want from me, expect of me.
Thank you for that.
Learning to be your all-weather friend,
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