I have learned something about myself since I moved from Long Island to Florida three years ago. Even though I own a home in Port St. Lucie just minutes from the ocean, an uncontrollable urge wells up to return to Long Island even as others make their way south. I guess I am a snowbird stuck in reverse. Instead of enjoying Florida's mild winters, I willingly endure the severe weather on Long Island, the place I called home for 65 years.
I'm like a migratory bird (候鸟) that has lost its sense of timing and direction, my wings flapping against season.
So what makes me fly against the tide of snowbirds? The answer has a lot to do with my reluctance to give up the things that define who I am. Once I hear that the temperature on Long Island has dipped into the range of 40 to 50 degrees, I begin to long for the sight and crackling sound of a wood fire. I also long for the bright display of colors—first in the fall trees, and then in the lights around homes and at Rockefeller Center. Floridians decorate, too, but can't create the special feel of a New England winter.
I suppose the biggest reason why I return is to celebrate the holidays with people I haven't seen in months. What could be better than sitting with family and friends for a Thanksgiving turkey dinner, or watching neighbors' children excitedly open gifts on Christmas? Even the first snowfall seems special. I especially enjoy seeing a bright red bird settling on a snow-covered branch. (My wife and 1 spend winters at a retirement community in Ridge, and I'm grateful that I don't have to shovel.)
While these simple pleasures are not unique to Long Island, they are some of the reasons why I come back. Who says you can't go home?
