Antonio Cayonne | Actor

this melted snow...oct.30.2015

Antonio Cayonne1 Comment

I used to think I hated snow. I don't do snow sports. No skiing or boarding or whatever else you do on it. And the snowball fights and forts ended with grade school (unfortunately). I kept sledding well through university, but by then it was called taboozoning and often resulted in broken noses and spilled mulled wine.

In my more recent years though, the snow and it's corresponding winter haven't had much of an appeal to me. Cold. Wet. Demoralizing. Beautiful though. Unquestionably. Until you're trapped inside for a week because it's THAT cold, or because there's a blackout. I don't know that I always hated snow. There were so many fun things to do, and even though in my more recent years I had a love hate, there was still a lot of love. Biking through Toronto on my mountain bike through the snow was always a highlight. It was so hard, and so satisfying when I finally got home. I liked that everyone was equal during the snow. It just had to be dealt with, but didn't cause you to stop living. In fact, some winters I went out MORE just to see people and complain (a bit ironically) about how bad the snow was, and hope to get stranded so that the adventure could begin. 

So it turns out, I have more love than hate for snow. 

Now the rain on the other hand....

I used to skip high school when it was raining. Grade 10, 11, and some of 12, were drastically affected by my disdain for wet days. A puddle would be enough to keep me from doing something. I unapologetically hated the rain. The only thing I appreciated were storms. They made me feel so small, so powerless. Like natures' kick in the ass. But the rain....I don't like being wet. Wet clothes ruin my day. Carrying a change of clothes is like submitting to the fact that the rain wins. When I stay home, I win. Everyone wins. 

So here in Vancouver, this rain may be my undoing. I don't get it. It spits. It's not happening all the time yet. But I know it's coming. Just spitting. Annoying. Like a kid sister tugging at your shirtsleeve trying to get you to play tea party. Or something. And you get wet. Not Toronto wet where you're soaked all at once and see it coming because a sheet of water drops on you. No, it's worse. It's getting progressively wetter, so slowly that you  don't  see it coming. It's getting on your bike and biking into the spit and getting drenched by your own speed. It's the kind of rain that makes you think you'll be fine walking to corner store. And you will be. You'll just be irritated. 

And cold. Toronto is cold. Montreal is cold. I hear the prairies are cold. Vancouver is a type of cold. In Toronto, I get cold. Then you're freezing. Literally you get to points where you are worried about your well-being. But, when you get inside, and you thaw off, life goes back to normal. You remember that everything is okay, that your blood will flow, that you won't be cold forever. 

Not here. It gets in your bones. You can get inside. You can 'warm up' a bit. But you don't recover. You could strip down, take a shower, take a nap next to a heater, and still wake up with a chill in your bones. As if the rain is from a Ouigie board and each drop is a spirit passing through you. Chills. Lingering chills. 

This rain. It's great for a lot of things. It's a rainforest. The summer doesn't understand what summer means. It's just always hot, then things burn, then there are fires, and everyone is so surprised. But then it rains, and it rains forever. No variation. There's an on off switch here, and it only gets used every 6 months or so. 

This rain. I can do it. I can deal. But it may be my undoing. 

I prefer the snow. That's saying a lot.