I used to love spending long times in the heat and sun. Then, I started fighting.
Every year when springtime came around, the only thing I had in mind was what within just a couple of months: summer. Growing up in New York, we had distinct seasons, but the winters (and transitions between fall to winter and winter to spring) seemed to last way too long. Winters fill me with dread as I think about gray skies, sloshing through dirty snow, getting my socks wet and feet cold. The thought of the unforgiving soft howl of the wind and the cold piercing through my skin and to my bones still makes me cringe as I write this from my apartment in Bangkok.
