A hoarse winter morning in January. My alarm clock jolts me to wake up, even before the sky has. The dreary day has started abruptly at 4:41 for morning swim practice. The alarm blares like an ambulance, rushing through the streets. It stops as I climb out of bed. I pray for summer to come quicker. I no longer feel the warm sensation of blankets that once comforted me in bed. I walk downstairs and into my garage, wreaking the smell of gasoline. My dad started the car for me to make sure that when I got in it was warm. I jumped inside feeling the frigid leather seats on my legs and hands. This is the feeling of winter. I pray for summer to come quicker. I pull out of the driveway, and onto the empty streets of Hartland, WI. No one — but me — on the road. My headlights lighting up the road ahead of me. Watching out for deer that might pop out, or other animals scurrying around, running to find shelter from the bitter cold. I pray for summer to come quicker. I get to swim practice and mentally prepare myself for jumping into the freezing cold water at 5:30 in the morning. My friends looking as tired as me; we are zombies, walking into the building, still half asleep. The bitter cold nips and bites at us, pushing us faster into the building. The practice goes by like a slow-motion movie, us all wishing it would go by faster. I pray for summer to come quicker. 

“See you all tonight,” my coach says. We groan and walk out the door, leaving for school. 

Students walk rapidly to the front door at Arrowhead High School with a little shuffle to try and avoid the cold, but in Wisconsin, that is inevitable. The bell rings at 7:30 and students rush into their classrooms hoping their teachers didn’t see them walk in late. The day goes on, every day the same as the last. Living on repeat. My day being as dreary as the weather outside. This is winter in Wisconsin.