Trapped in Winter (or, Be Careful What You Wish For)

I gaze out the window, watching the rivulets of water trickle down like tears. Reaching forward, I touch my fingertips to the glass pane, then quickly retreat from its cold, unyielding resolve. Outside, the leafless trees and dying grass droop under the melancholy drizzle. A frigid breeze snakes through the drafty building and strokes my cheek, sending a shiver through my bones. 

I regret my wish every day, and I know I will continue to regret it until the end of time. I didn’t want to be trapped in an endless winter. Well, I did want to, technically. Once upon a time, which feels like forever ago. But I didn’t want this. Endless rain and wind and frost, swirling around my lonely, one-room cabin. 

At least I was left with a chair, so I don’t have to rest on the freezing floorboards, damp with the essence of foggy winter mornings. It’s a small comfort in this dreary, grey world. How long have I been here? It’s hard to recall, to keep track of the days and weeks and years spent languishing in mind-numbing boredom. 

Maybe if I concentrate, I can remember the day it happened. I think it was a Monday. No—a Tuesday. A hot, humid afternoon in the middle of summer. I was lying on my bedroom floor in a tank top and shorts, fanning myself with a book. I know I was sweltering, sticky with sweat, although now I can scarcely recall what that feels like. A single thought flashed incessantly in my mind: I wish it were cold. I wish it were cold. 

“Really? Is that what you truly want?” a voice whispered in my ear.

“Yes,” I murmured. “I wish it were winter all year long, every year.” 

I never heard the response, or maybe I forgot it, but the magical spirit or creature or whatever it was must have granted my wish. Because here I am. Thoroughly frozen, trapped in an endless cycle of winter, forever lamenting my tragic fate. 

By the time you read this, whoever you are, I will probably have long since bid farewell to this world. And maybe no one will ever find this note that I tucked so carefully beneath my solitary chair. But if you do find it, I want you to know that to accept your life (and yourself) as it is—that is the only way to experience true happiness.