The Runaway Mama by Jen Gregory

I’ve been winter’s biggest cheerleader since we moved from sunny Florida to New Jersey. After all, I grew up in New England. Peabody, Massachusetts, to be exact. Even though I lived in South Florida for a decade, “wintah” (and a wicked awesome Boston accent) is in my blood.

The boys don’t hate it here by any means, but having been born and raised in a tropical locale, moving to the northeast has been a difficult transition for them. The change of seasons, which is what I missed the most living in the Sunshine State, has been their biggest stumbling block.

I’ve actually enjoyed the arrival of winter, and it’s not just because it’s been a good excuse to go shopping. When frigid temperatures finally arrived, I embraced the bitter cold air and gloomy gray skies. When the first snow flurries fell a few weeks ago, no one was more excited than me. It was a delightful little taste of winter, and it made me want more.

There were so many firsts I couldn’t wait for my boys to experience. From making snow angels to going sledding to waking up on a weekday morning to the sweet sound of “school is canceled,” I wanted my little Floridians to have some good old-fashioned wintry fun. I knew a snowstorm would turn their winter blues around, but I had no idea how much it would spin me, too.

Winter Storm Jonas came through last weekend like a wrecking ball. Once it started snowing on Friday night, it. would. not. stop. When we woke up to 30 inches of snow on Sunday morning, I couldn’t catch my breath. It was a gorgeous site to see so much fresh, fluffy, untouched snow, but there was so much of it. There was too much of it. There was so too much of it!

I couldn’t breathe was because there was snow EVERYWHERE. We couldn’t get in or out. In a fit of panic, I dug out the front steps, but then I hurt all over and we were still trapped. Even after two days of endless plowing, shoveling, snow blowing, and salting, our town looks like it’s been eaten alive.

The path from our front door to the street is endless and narrow.

The gates that connect our front and backyard are blocked indefinitely.

The streets are barely wide enough for two cars to squeeze by.

Parking spaces have been swallowed whole.

The trees are drowning.

Our mailbox is choking!

I feel like Alex from the movie, Madagascar, who, when he realizes he’s trapped in a shipping container on a cargo ship, says: “I can’t breathe, can’t breathe! Darkness creeping in. I can’t breathe. Walls closing in around me! So alone. So alone.”

I totally get his crazy.

On the bright side, even if Winter Storm Jonas has sent me down a rabbit hole of claustrophobia, anxiety, and seasonal affective disorder, it seems to have had the opposite effect on the boys. They still miss Florida, but I saw a much-missed twinkle in their eyes as I watched them hurl snowballs at each other’s faces over the weekend (even though I told them not to).

This too shall melt? I’m dreaming of spring already, but that’s what the seasons are all about – hanging on for dear life in one while fantasizing about what’s to come, which I sincerely hope is not another named storm.