Weather or not

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

“It’s very grey today,” he said sagely.

“Oh,” she replied looking out the window, “Yes, it is.”

“We can’t even see the city.”

“You’re right,” she said, looking at same view, “We can’t.”

“Is it raining? I think it’s raining,” he said astonished.

“It can’t be,” she replied in shock.

“I think it is,” he affirmed.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right. It is raining!” she said astounded as though precipitation is something quite novel.

“You know,” he saids, “They think it might snow.”

“Really? How unseasonable for this time of year.”

“Have you seen my long johns?”

This is verbatim our morning conversation.

As if, we were not simultaneously experiencing the same weather.

As if the weather was some strange inexplicable phenomenon.

Then I went into a Zoom meeting and had the same conversation again.

And then my father called…

If you’re lucky enough to be experiencing sun (my father), when the other party (me) is under an umbrella with raindrops slipping coldly down their collar, the utter glee of being warm and dry leads to unseemly gloating. 

“We’re experiencing such terrible rain.”

“Oh, are you? It’s lovely here, the sun is out and the sky is blue.”

“How lovely for you.” <insert sarcasm filter here>

Now that I have become hyper-aware of weather speak, so to speak, I’ve been avoiding it.

But, like the novel coronavirus, without the prerequisite conversations about the sun, or lack thereof, we don’t know what to say!

We just stutter helplessly like fish out of water desperately avoiding the only other starter conversation topic…

How are you?

With the unspoken caveat of, “Please don’t tell me. Please, please don’t tell me.”


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I write because I have to. It is a compulsion. I do it to vent, to laugh and to remember. I blog because it has been so long since I had to write with a pen that my hand would go into cramp if I tried to write a journal.

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