Devonne Brown

It’s hard for me to romanticize winter. Winter scared me when the boys were little. Holidays sprinkled through it. Christmas, New Years, Groundhog’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Snow Days, hey…we get off school on snow days, they’re holidays. It scared me worse when we lived in North Carolina. Ice storms where ice was an inch thick around the trees limbs and black ice hid on the roads. I always closed the curtains and blinds. 

Cold, killing cold. 

I loved old houses too, and didn’t have money or sense to live in places with decent heating systems. Our house in Roxboro’s central heating system went out and we ended up relying on space heaters when the boys were six or seven. A ten thousand dollar heating system was out of the question. It remained that way until we moved back to West Virginia. 

Luckily, there weren’t many ice storms and blizzards or subzero temperatures down south, but there were enough. The boys thought nothing of it, it was the way we lived. I didn’t discuss it, but was mortified as well as terrified. All I needed was for my ex to find out our situation to lose the kids. Everything else was fine.

Then I got sick and lost my job and my home and had to move back to West Virginia in January 2008. It was a good time to move the boys. I had never intended for them to go to middle school or high school in North Carolina, but I didn’t like the way the decision had been made for me. The boys thrived in West Virginia with their grandparents close by. Their new schools were nurturing, and I could relax and heal. 

Winter still scares me some. I can’t help but remember those cold, cold days. I close my eyes and see ice encasing the tree limbs, not with beauty but with disaster. I thank God for snow days, curtains, and blinds. I just don’t want to deal with winter anymore.