One snow storm after another has pummeled the north-east coast this month. I've always been true to my home state of New York, defending her honor, extolling her virtues, pledging allegiance...except when winter comes. That's when it becomes one of those up and down relationships, she loves me - she loves me not stories. I'll admit that when the temperatures dip so does my affection. I'm a fair weather fan. It's about now when all things bright and warm begin to flirt with my senses. Dreams of trading shovels for sunny beaches, bulky wool coats and hats for one thin layer of clothing tempt my mind. I'm inclined to stray, hop a plane down south or cross country. Leave this place once and maybe for all.
Then I remember that this is home, that I left here for a while years ago only to come rushing back to the arms that welcomed me without a hitch. To some extent I am defined by the map and my spot in the topography. I have my own root system here, albeit currently covered over in about a foot of icy, white accumulation.
Long Island loyalty is a challenge in February. At times it's a challenge no matter what month we're in. Yet, there's something to be said for staying the course and being faithful.
Besides, the flights out are so damn expensive.