Don’t Talk To Me About The Weather


Don’t talk to me about the weather. Don’t tell me about the forecast and how it calls for rain, or how you’re terrified that winter will arrive earlier than expected. I don’t want to hear your thoughts on the autumn chill, or your opinion on the season change. Instead, tell me about the changes you’ve seen in yourself. Tell me about how the rain makes you sentimental because it reminds you of your mother, or how you can’t stand to look at the sky because it reminds you of your best friend and how you never got to say goodbye.

I don’t care about your favourite colour. Tell me about the shades you saw in your lovers eyes when you told her you loved her for the last time. I want to know what it felt like to have your heart broken, and if you’ve ever cried just thinking about the one that got away.  I want to hear the words you never allowed yourself to say.

Tell me about your childhood. I want to know about your adolescent home, and the way it smelled when your family would cook. I want to hear about how your mother and your father danced to oldies in the kitchen, and how you would watch them with wide eyes, wondering if you’d ever find a girl who could match their reprise. Tell me about your regrets. Tell me about the things you keep hidden inside, I want to inquire about the depths of your mind, and show you that instead of running away I’m here to hold a light.

I don’t care about your “I’m greats.” When I ask you how you’re doing, I mean it genuinely. Its okay to tell me that your day was terrible, or that you’re hurting inside. Its okay to tell me that you just want to hide, or that you feel as if you can’t confide in the people you call friends. Don’t talk to me about the game, or ask me about the score. What makes your heart sore? I want to hear about the night you cried in the arms of your brother. Tell me about the feelings you keep undercover, the opinions and the fears you ‘ve never shared with another.

Don’t talk to me about the weather. Don’t talk to me about ordinary things, because I want us to play big. Lets not make our hearts small, lets strive to share it all, lets aim to stop the games and breach the walls. I’m going to challenge you the way you challenge me, I’m going to open up and let you see every inch of my debris. Here’s to digging deeper than the baseline, here’s to leaving the surface behind. Its time to dive.

Read more of Bianca Sparacino’s writing in her new book Seeds Planted in Concrete here.