I woke up this morning to the shine of sun beating on the blackout curtains just enough to send a spark of light into the room, and a small chime from my phone from a friend exclaiming “Whew, getting hot here!”
When I looked outside, the sun was out, and the grass was being blistered in the summer Texas heat. I can only imagine that the birds were sizzling in their nests instead of chirping morning greetings as it was so gosh darn hot. I hunkered down in the AC ready to agree with my friend, as even my dogs were not thrilled with the idea of a backyard romp now that the sun was up. I think only Fluffy would have be happy to be outside.
Then I realized the friend that was complaining about the heat was in England! And the temperature he was complaining of was 28C (82F) which was our blissful low of the night!
Besides, I enjoy teasing him as an expat that has all too quickly gotten used to the temperature and nature of London. The conversation made me wonder how quickly we human adapt to the changes in climate of all types. For it seems to be a matter of preparedness as well as of degrees, not just the Celsius or Fahrenheit type.
I remember moving from my sleepy home town to Austin and then to Houston. Each time was a bit of a culture shock that I quickly sorted out. Although, I am still not used to how little people know their neighbors the big city, or the odd distance we have between people we meet and people we know. I still miss the mountains and the changes of season, from the briskness of fall, to the crisp snow fall of winter. And to Tod’s amusement, I still have not quite realized that just because it is hot, does not mean we can drive for 45 minutes, partway up the mountain for a nice refreshing hike in blessedly cool weather.
As you might have guessed, I am not originally from the great state of Texas. Although, Tod assures me that since I have been here almost half my life, was married here and such (coordinating with the Houston Livestock Show so our sheep-rancher minister could marry us) that I am close enough.
Oh, Texas how you have changed my perspective.
So, when my friend in England proclaimed “Whew, getting hot here” I stopped and wondered if I too would cringe at 28C, when there was no AC and little wind or rain, but instead the muggy oppression of a metropolis.
How does this relate to our writing?
Whenever you have a new character exposed to a new culture, it is not always the large things that are difficult to adjust too, but often the small ones. How hard is it to get mustard with your fries instead of ketchup, if there even are fries? What in the world is “sweet tea” and why would someone do such as thing to tea in the first place? (I agree with this. When I was growing up in Texas the only place I remember that had sweet tea was Luby’s. -Tod) Why is that coffee shop on every corner? Why can’t we pull over to the side of the freeway to buy apples directly from the orchards? Often it is the small items, or the invisible items, that remind one of time changes such as seasons, which are not at first missed, but later become a throbbing heartache of homesickness.
Tip of the Week
Don’t run when you can’t breath. No one can breath for you.
Weekly Question
To all of my friends that have moved whether for college, military, work, or other. What is the one thing that you did not think you would miss that you ended up longing for?
I think I've moved maybe 13 times over the past 35 years, Anna, Tod. So I've missed a few things over the years, but each new place's experiences engaged my interest. New foods to try, new museums to explore, and new faces to meet. I used to look forward to our next change of station, but I'm happy where we are now. Not too hot, not too cold. The restaurants are OK. The museums are OK. If I want more, we can head to Conventions and try new things and see old faces and new. 🙂