I went to breakfast with friends this morning, just like I used to every week months ago. The same people work at Vic's Waffle House, and the same greasy scent is lingering on my wool coat.
Leaving the restaurant, we all shivered a little when we stepped outside. There were a couple grumbles and complaints, but a little sadness swept over me. It's not going to be this cold anymore. I'm leaving it behind.
The cold won't kill you. If you wear the right clothing, it can't even hurt you. And if you have the right attitude ("I live in New England; this is how it goes."), it won't even bother you.
I'm going to miss the wet and bitter cold air and the snow and the puffy coats and knit mittens and hats and woolly scarves wrapped around and around.
I'm going to the desert, and though it can be quite cold at night and in the early morning, I'm still getting weather reports in the low 90s.
So it's just not the same.