The 5 Stages of Grief: Chicago’s Transition to Spring

Ahhh, spring. One of my favorite seasons as the bitter cold fades into warm nights; trees blossom, birds chirp, and… what the fuck is this, a Danielle Steel novel? Spring means warmth, and that’s all I care about. Apparently, however, Chicago does not believe in seasons. Many people joke we only have two here: winter and construction.

Apparently, today was the first day of spring, but you wouldn’t know it, because it was 3-degrees and felt like fucking February. Typical. So, this is pretty much the thought process I normally experience as a Chicago winter attempts to transition into spring.

1. Denial and Isolation – 

It’s not going to be this cold. This is a fluke. Tomorrow will be 50. The gym? What are you, nuts? I’m not going to the gym! I’m not doing anything but going home and putting on sweatpants. Not because it’s subzero wind chills at the end of March, but because IT IS SUBZERO WIND CHILLS AT THE END OF MARCH and I don’t NEED to go to the gym because I have mastered the art of turning a ten minute walk into a two-minute sprint to escape as quickly as possible the feeling that someone LIT MY FACE ON FIRE.

2. Anger – 

Who the FUCK do you think you are, Chicago? Three degrees on the first day of Spring? What is this, a test? You know what? I moved here from goddamn San Diego! That’s like trading in Tom Brady for Fat Bastard. And this is my reward? Frostbite and the urge to move to Florida? You know what? FUCK YOU!

3. Bargaining – 

Okay, that was rude. I didn’t mean it. 40. Can I have 40-degrees? That’s fair, right? I’m not asking for 70-degrees in March, I just want to walk outside without my eyes immediately starting to water and my entire body feeling like someone threw me in Lake Michigan. In January.

4. Depression – 

I just miss being outside! I miss my city! I miss the boat cruises on the lake and the lazy Sunday’s sitting outside enjoying a cold drink and the warmth. My god the warmth. I will never feel warmth again.

5. Acceptance – 

So, we can’t control the weather. It’ll be okay. Eventually it’ll be warm again. In the meantime, I’ll be sitting in front of the nearest fireplace for the next month.