I’m often asked, why did you leave? And in response I say — I left for the weather. This beautiful, wonderful, weather.

Back where I’m from we don’t have the same clouds, same sun, or same air. The air here is better.
I moved because I like the smell and warmth of summer. I like the blue skies. The green leaves. The grass, and the lake water. I like that my—your—gender (almost, relatively) doesn’t matter.

The weather is nice. I like watching the leaves change color, from green to brown to green again. I like the sound of leaf blowers as neighbors wash themselves of dying trees. If I had a house I’d let the leaves be. I like that I won’t be killed for my apostasy.

And besides, you’ve got nice weather. I like it when it gets cold. Really cold. I like putting on layers and layers of clothes and jumping headfirst into the snow. I like how fluffy it is and how it feels against my skin. Or my tongue. I like that you won’t force me to fight a war for you.

There’s just something about this weather. I like watching the flowers bloom, and the ice melt. I like the sunshine and the distant sound of motorbikes. I like watching your pets go for walks and people smiling at each other. I like that you don’t point out the strangeness of my color.

There’s just something about this weather. I like your clear skies and how the stars shine at night. I like the evening breeze upon my skin. I like the thunderstorms and the blizzards. I like the icy chill upon my face, and the wind that’s dying to sweep everything away. I like that love is for all, and that I can be me and not a copy of someone or another.

There’s just something about this weather. I like that it doesn’t matter.