Let me paint a portrait for you.

Yesterday Nashville had its first “blizzard” of the year, it went from 65 degrees to 23 degrees in just 24 hours. The freezing winter day turned into a night filled with ice and snow. It was windy and cold.

I was getting ready for bed, and the last thing I do is walk up to the thermostat and turn it on. I don’t turn on the heating as one would expect on a night when you’re looking out the window, and it’s like everything looks like glass. No, I turn on the air conditioning, like I do every time. single. evening. I turn it down to 60 degrees because… menopause.

But last night I decided to give Old Winter the reins and let him cool down my bedroom, so I opened the window by the head of my bed. I didn’t open it like it was a 65 degree, sunny, spring day, I opened it like it was 23 degree and was instantly smacked in the face with the most glorious cold air. As I climbed into bed, the wind was howling through the window, I had just opened it, my husband entered the room. He just looked at me and before getting into bed, he changed into sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt and climbed into bed. I smiled at him, kissed his head, and we both apologized and thanked him for being so understanding. As I turned around to turn off the light and grab my earplugs, he once again hit me in the face with that icy air, and when I grabbed my earplugs, I noticed that they were a bit frozen. I was worried that this was not a good idea.

Fast forward to a few hours later where I woke up from a dream. In this dream, I was 30 years old and someone invited me to dinner. I was so excited in this dream, and when I wake up some more, I realize that it’s not just a dream, but I’m lying on top of all the blankets, the wind howling outside, icicles on my window INSIDE. My husband is fast asleep in sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt on the couch!

Now it was 2 am and I was wide awake, like I made coffee wide awake and I lay on the bed and thought for a moment. Until that very moment, I was fine with being a few days away from my 51st birthday. She was fine with having raised two reasonably well-adjusted children. I was adjusting well to my “golden years.” That was until that stupid dream, and I was 30 again. I sat and thought about that dream and decided there was no way Gina was actually 30 years old. In this dream, this Gina had her life in order when the real-life 30-year-old Gina was a bit of a train wreck. Gina, 30, was a single mother with a 3-year-old and a 4-year-old, two jobs, barely making ends meet, and a love life that was questionable at best.

When the hot flash passed, I walked into the living room and grabbed my husband, my husband, who if he had a hat and gloves I’m sure he would wear and brought him back to bed. I lay on the covers and listened to the combination of the wind howling and my husband snoring and wondered if this was what a midlife crisis would feel like. Realizing that he was almost 51 and not 30 was unexpectedly sad for me. The only thought he had was that he had lived through most of my years and was on the downward slope of life.

I crawled under the covers, turned my pillow over to the cold side, and as a small tear of ice froze on my cheek, I thought, it’s going to be okay.