Cold

The temperature is steadily dropping in Orlando, FL and people around here have been speaking about the freeze as if a high profile celebrity was coming to town. When I arrived at work, the weather surrounding Winter Park, FL was a beautiful 65 degrees, crisp and even a little bit hot if you sat under the right amount of sunlight. More T-shirts and jeans than cashmere and merino. Soon, shoppers were popping into Restoration Hardware, hugging themselves and running into the warm recesses of our lighting room, which, with its 80+ incandescent light bulbs, must simulate the face of the sun.

"I hear that it's already frozen up in north Florida at least once," one customer says.

"It did in Ocala," I reply.

"It's coming down here pretty quickly. I hear that it'll be 26 degrees tonight," a man offers.

"I saw snow on the TV for Atlanta," the man's wife says.

"Yeah, my cousin called me from Atlanta this morning. She says that there was snow on the ground," I say while handing a bag to a customer in front of me.

"Oh," the customer says disinterestedly, holding her bag close and turning around to leave.

"I'll bet, I'll bet," the man says, "well, it's coming to town. That kind of cold is coming."

"This is warm for me," a woman says to me, placing a candle on the cashwrap for me to ring up, "I'm from Albany."

"What're you doing, bringing this down with you?" I say, service-y smile intact. The other shoppers laugh politely.

The woman explodes into giggles. "Yes, yes, yes! I'm so sorry. Really." More giggles. The other shoppers suddenly look as if they have indigestion. After a moment, the woman shopper gains her composure, checks to see if I'm still listening (I am, but I'm putting the candle in her bag), and continues. "But I'm sure that it'll be even colder in Albany, you can count on that!" She seems content in her moral victory.

With the descent of the sun, the heavy coats start appearing--fur, trench, denim, calf-length wool...only in Winter Park would everyone be so stylishly prepared for thirty degree weather. I started to regret ignoring my mother's advice to wear a coat rather than a sweater on each trip to our backroom, located outside and under the parking garage.

But the cold makes me feel alive. Hyper-alive. I love the whip of a heavy, chilling wind across my bare neck. Without a coat, there's nothing that I can do about it. I am drained of plenty of surface heat, but my core of warmth remains intact. It's a wonderful feeling. It makes me smile when no one is watching.

And I suddenly feel very secure. Amidst the chill and the numb fingers, my heart radiates with a certain security--security in love, security in friendship, security in being, security in thought. The events of the last week play across in my mind--where I once had concern, I have understanding. Where I once had mistrust, I have sheepish repentance. Where I once had worry, I have giddy excitement for the future. With the reddening of my cheeks, I have love, in specifics and generalities.

While those up north may laugh at my naievete, I love the cold.