By: Gabriela Yareliz
9:26 a.m.: Here I am, at home, on Sabbath, in a pink Minnie Mouse onesie and with Amal Clooney hair. Seriously.
Yesterday, I let my abuela’s concern (and perhaps slight paranoia) about the weather get to me, and I bought water, snacks and candles that smell like “Cashmere Woods,” whatever that means. It smells good, don’t worry. It smells a lot better than the “Hawaiian Orchid” candle, which gave me flashbacks of body spray I used when I was twelve. I also found myself in the lipstick aisle but then decided this was not essential for the snow apocalypse.
My plan was to go to church. I was adamant, despite the fact that some family members equated stepping out into frigid temperatures with death. I was told my Mediterranean nose would fall off, and I would freeze. Okay. I want to keep my nose, but I am so stubborn. *Sigh*
I have no problem staying in, unless I see something as exciting and photogenic as fresh snow. I woke up, and apparently, because I live close to water (everyone in NYC does, technically, but I am really close), there is zero visibility. I can’t see the bridge from my window. It’s scary. In fact, I think that if you step out, you could easily get confused or lost. Everything is a blur of grey.
This reminded me of my snowy days in Michigan as a child. My mom would bundle me up, scarf around face, until I looked like one of Alibaba’s thieves, and off I’d go to the bus stop– until a glorious snow day was announced on the local news. Rejoice. (Snowy Gabby would then reenter the house and unravel).
I dream of sunny days, where the sun warms the uncovered skin and hair flows free. Heat that you can breathe in. No itchy stockings or leggings. Bare legs. No earmuffs or hats that give you flat hair. I can’t wait.
And if you think my sweet Florida would have saved me from this snowy mess…
I just got a phone call from my mother. It’s snowing, IN FLORIDA. What is this world coming to?
These are the days when you are left very alone with your thoughts, indoors. Nature’s weird solemnity inspires you to reflect.
I like solemnity. I live in my hippie home with no microwave, stereos or music players, WiFi or television. I keep it old world charm at my place… an attempt at peace, spiritual balance and realness. The only thing that occasionally disrupts the peace is my phone. I wish I could chuck it into the Hudson, sometimes.
Anyway, we still have power, thank God. I still have plans for this snow day. We’ll see. There is this crazy, Weather Channel storm chaser inside of me that needs to be appeased. And once the sun goes down, sofrito will hit the pan. I want a very warm, Latin dinner.
I have my Bible, a crisp, hardcover copy of Jesus on Trial: A lawyer affirms the truth of the Gospel, beans and chips and bananas. All the essentials, or in the words of Julie Andrews, “these are a few of my favorite things.”
I will warm up my gluten-free quiche and watch the snow fall, while I recalculate my plans.
Baby, it’s cold outside, but I got plans…
[Updates to come].
GABRIELA YARELIZ 