I'll Miss the Snow Days
When I tell people I’m moving to Arizona, the ensuing conversation follows a pretty predictable script.
They’ll ask why, whether I plan to continue teaching, if I’ve found a place to live. If time allows, they’ll ask whether I’m flying or driving and the distance from Kentucky to Phoenix.
But the conversation always—always—turns to the heat.
“I hope you like the sun,” they’ll say.
“You better pack your sunscreen,” they’ll advise.
“That part of the country is just too hot for me,” they’ll groan.
And while I’m sure there will be days when I find the heat unbearably oppressive, I find it odd that many Kentuckians do not acknowledge the flaws in our own weather. It can be rainy at the beginning of the week, transform into severe storms by midweek, and end with a freak snow shower.
No, I will not miss the Kentucky snow that lingered into April. But I will miss the snow days.
I’ll miss getting a One Call around 5 AM from the principal declaring school cancelled, granting me the freedom to roll over and sleep in. I’ll not miss tiptoeing over icy parking lots, but I will miss thawing out within the warm hallways of my school. I won’t miss grading stacks of essays, but I will miss joking around with my students from the perch of my podium. I won’t miss our governor, but I will miss bandying with my co-workers and fighting for public education, our hearts aflame with righteous anger.
I won’t miss my dog barking at rabbits from inside the house, but I will miss watching him run in the green grass. I won’t miss Daylights Savings Time, but I will miss my quiet moments driving to work in the dark of morning, listening to my favorite podcasts before the chaos of the day. I will not miss the boredom that comes from living far from any notable attractions, but I will miss my quiet neighborhood.
I will miss regular Sunday evening dinners with my parents. I’ll miss frequent inside jokes with my sister. I will miss those a-ha moments in the classroom where I can see a lightbulb turn on—teachers know what I’m talking about. I’ll miss laughing at the local Mexican restaurant with my friends until our stomachs ache.
Next week, I am leaving for Arizona. I cannot wait to start a new chapter, to be reunited with my husband, to fill a different role in education, to work on my novel. I have so much to look forward to, and yet I am leaving so much behind.
I suppose that should make me sad, but I am reminded of a quote I like by none other than Winnie the Pooh: "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."