White mounds of cold, soft, billowing snow calling my name. Has the heat made me delusional? It started around my eyes and has caused beads of sweat around my upper lip to permeate every pore of my body.
I have a burning desire (pun intended) to strip off every thread of material on my body and run head-long and butt-naked into the front yard. I know that I must bury myself in the exquisite cool of this wintery mix. The neighbors would be shocked at the least and call the cops at the worst.
Instead, I gather my thoughts and choose to maintain my modesty but still decide to escape the escalating heat of my home, whether real or imagined and run out the front door. I take two long strides down the front steps, almost slipping on the accumulated snow and ice, and bury myself in the highest snow drift I can find.
I know it is my imagination, but I can feel the snow sizzling and melting around the insane-looking snow angel I am creating. Tiny snowflakes catch on my eyelids while others melt as they hit my flushed face.
Flapping my angel wings, I cover myself in as much snow as possible until the cool penetrates my outer core and reaches the internal source of this devil-inspired hell. As I begin to cool down, I look up into the eyes of my extremely bewildered husband.
Yes, I have become a menopausal snow angel.
About the Creator
Lizz "Hunny" Chambers
Hunny is a storyteller, activist, and HR strategist whose writing explores ageism, legacy, resilience, and the truths hidden beneath everyday routines. Her work blends humor, vulnerability, and insight,
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