May 20th, 2022
Yesterday I went outside to pick up dinner.
I could see the bright sun shining through the window before I left, so it was strange when I walked through the door and found that it was raining.
For all the weather we get here, it felt like the most emotionally relatable.
All I seem to live through are sunny days of rain.
I know what the sun is; it’s the hope I find in being alive.
But the rain is always changing.
Sometimes it’s the grief or loss I feel. Sometimes it’s watching the people I know and love make bad decisions over and over again, both of us knowing that they could prevent the tragedies they create. Sometimes it’s a critical, overwhelming disdain for myself, which is easy for me to get drenched in.
And there it is with the sun.
I don’t want to spoil Cold World too much, but I feel like it’s better than one line, no matter how good that line is.
On a certain page, Calef turns to his father and says: “Dad, when mom died, I knew that I was going to be living in winter for the rest of my life, no matter where it was I lived.”
For everything we say Minnesota weather gets wrong: it seems to get life most of all.