Winter in California

Winter in California is a three-year-old girl,

Smiling, giggling,

Charming you with her sunny laugh.

You share pictures of her on Instagram:

“Look at my Winter!” you want to say.

“Isn’t she beautiful!

Don’t you wish she was yours?

I must be doing something right

To deserve a Winter like this.”

You go out to bask in your Winter,

Your glorious life-choices,

Your wonderful parenting.

That’s when Winter stops and howls,

Raging on the sidewalk,

Flailing, hitting, spitting,

Screaming.

You stand helpless,

Alone and wet.

Drowning in the humiliation

Of being caught unprepared

By this sudden tantrum.

The national news shakes its head.

“Isn’t that just like California

To have such a crazy Winter?

Those atmospheric rivers.

Those bomb cyclones.

California’s Winter is so crazy

They had to make up whole new weather names.”

Your family sends texts from places like Ohio.

“Are you okay?” they ask.

“We heard about your Winter.

Why don’t you move back East where Winters are normal?”

You struggle to explain,

“She’s not always like this.

She’s usually so well behaved.”

They shake their heads,

Grateful for their cold, predictable Winters,

Their impeccable life choices.

Your Winter takes a shuddering breath,

Stands up from the sidewalk,

And beams.