Over

Dear Snow,

Consider this your official notice that we are no longer an item. I know it hurts, but it’s really for the best. For both of us. You really need to go in a different direction and I am ready for someone new. Someone hotter and vibrant.

At first you were so cool and made me think wistful thoughts staring out my kitchen window watching you flitter by winking at me.  You never had body odor or told me I really should brush my hair every once in a while.

But now your annoying habits are grating on my last flippin’ nerve. Like whistling endlessly for months at a time, spitting here and there with no thought of how you delay my plans and wishes. It’s getting old. And you can’t even carry a tune; your mother was wrong.

I hope you find someone new who can handle your drifting ways, come and go whenever you want attitude,  your abrasive as well as your soft side.

But, me?

I think I’ve grown a lot in our relationship. And sprouted multiple colonies of gray hairs. I’ve spent many hours dancing inside with small children, letting them color on windows and splash in the bathtub in their swimsuits, but now it’s time to show our albino shoulders to to sun for Spring inspection.

We’re ready, snow.

R-E-A-D-Y. I’m strong enough to tell you this firmly and kindly:

Go. Away.

Don’t make me get ugly.

Sincerely a distant memory,

Elizabeth

I mean it—Shoo!

Scat!

I don’ wanna see yo’ face no mo’!