It was my day to drive my daughter’s 13 and 14 year-old friends to school– I pick them up at designated rendezvous. The first one, usually full of good humor, greeted us in a flat monotone as if her mother had just taken away her iPod (a major disaster since this girl is addicted to Beatles’ tunes).
“That voice is that it’s March,” her friend replied with surprising vehemence, “and my hair froze on the way over here.”
I completely agree with the sentiment. As soon as the vernal equinox has passed, hair should no longer be allowed to freeze.
I’m almost always a little behind schedule by the time I pick up the third girl. She will do well in life– unlike me, she usually arrives on time. Except today. I didn’t see her standing on the corner. And then, when I pulled over to park, she suddenly appeared.
“Sorry,” she said, “it’s freezing. I waited across the street in the sun.” (This from a girl who only last month waited in the usual spot in the shade and wind and cold and three feet of snow. But it’s March now. In fact, it’s almost April…).
As far as my youngest daughter is concerned, the decision to wear shorts should be dictated by the calendar (i.e. the first day of spring) regardless of the temperature. (My oldest is a teenage boy and they wear hoodies year-round. Go figure).
And what do I do when spring doesn’t get here fast enough? I buy flowers. Today I broke down and purchased two sexy, flamboyant orchids– optimistic flowers with attitude, they bloom when they damn well please and will hang in there for months. I suppose someone must have told them this old adage: in New England, if you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.