Snow & ice

The snow comes down sweetly and sugarcoats the ground like the ocean's foam. Millions and trillions of snowflakes give up their individuality and join together. Each one plays a role. Each one is a binding piece. Together they hide the dirt. Together they warm the environment. Together they survive. Something happens. Together they separate.

They separate and the wind blows. A force is applied. The snowball rolls on and on and on. It gains hundreds and hundreds of flakes as it travels its unknown path. It may be guided by gravity. It may be guided by a gloved hand. It may be guided by its own unforeseen force and determination. The snowball rolls on and on.

It passes fields and animals. Together the snowflakes cross roads and bridges. They race down hills and climb mountain tops. With each roll and turn the snowflakes accumulate. They come off the ground and travel on. The dirt is left exposed.

Snowballs are everywhere and travel in every direction. They meet up to build creations and they plummet together to become larger. Every so often however, they cross the right hand. The hand is not gloved. The hand is small. The hand is curious and reaches out. The hand contacts the snowball. A snapshot is taken.

The photo shows the hand and the snowball. It shows the sugarcoated ground and the dark sky above. The hand is unweathered. The snowball is cold. The snapshot ends.

One by one the snowflakes melt. They trickle from the innocent fingers and melt the snow below. The snowball shrinks. The hand holds tight. The heat warms the cold. The hand cradles each snowflake. The snowflakes continue to stream away and disappear. The core is left in his innocent hand.

He puts the pellet of ice into his pocket. He wants to keep it safe forever. He goes inside the house.

HUMDRUM MUFFIN

She taps on the wheel impatiently. A piece of paper may, may just fit between the car bumpers. The red brake lights scream out to her like a warning sign. She is craving that new breakfast sandwich. Advertisements for it are everywhere. A poached egg draped in melted cheese and succulent ham sandwiched between a rich buttery croissant. She saved her money all week, sacrificing the candy bar at check out and the chips with her lunches. Her mouth waters and her stomach cries out in a desire stronger than hunger.

Two more cars until she gets to the small speaker box with all the power. The words enter the box and the product pops out of the window. It's like magic.

She can practically taste the sandwich. So close. The car ahead inches forward. She follows. The order replays in her head. "Medium iced tea. No sugar. No lemon. And the breakfast sandwich with ham." The voice drowns out the music playing over the radio.

The window is down. It's a warm day out and the sun is shining. It's going to be a good day. Nothing special planned or expected, just a good day. A good day made better by starting with the ham, egg, and cheese croissant sandwich. A voice enters through the window. It's echoing the other person's order. She cannot fathom how people prefer their coffees "light and sweet." Why bother? He drives away and as she pulls up she reminds herself that everyone has different tastes.

A raspy voice greets her morning. She tries to picture the person behind the voice. Her response is accurate and concise. "Good. " A brief pause and she orders her iced tea and corn muffin.

The car rolls up to the other bumper. As her foot presses the brake pedal, she realizes what she just did. Every other day she gets that corn muffin. It's bland and regular. And it isn't the sandwich her stomach is set on receiving. It's too late to change her order. The guy in front pulls away.

At the window she reluctantly pays for her muffin she is so rehearsed in ordering. The money saved goes back into the wallet. Today will be just another day.

Maybe tomorrow.

X Y Z

I checked the forecast. It calls for a thunderstorm tomorrow afternoon.

When I wake in the morning, the evening humidity still lingers. The mist left droplets on my car and I have to turn my headlights on to see ten feet ahead. I look up and I can see the sun burning off the clouds. It will be sunny out after all. I pull out my sunglasses and slide them on my face. Ahh! the fresh spring air! I pull over and take the top off my car. It is so convenient how it fits in my trunk. The morning flies by and the sun shines down on this beautiful day!

It is one of those days. The sky is full of its brilliance of blue. The sun sits high above and its warmth radiates down. I can feel it on my shoulders and the cool wind in my face. The roads are clear. I can almost feel the heat absorbed in them. Down the country roads the trees wave me by and the river winds underneath. It's me, the radio, the open road, and this beautiful day.

I continue driving around and I don't want to stop. My route avoids traffic lights and stop signs. I want to keep going and going. I know I can't; the gas tank won't fill itself. And in this town, in this area, lights and signs are all too abundant to avoid. If I have to chose, I'd rather stop at a sign than at a light. I see them everywhere. Too many people are at the traffic lights and they take forever to switch to green. The stop signs are brief and simple. I like that style.

The road seems endless like the sky. Lost in driver hypnosis I pass through the stop signs. No one is around, no one knows. I look to the sky. A dark luminous cloud invaded my forever blue. It must be the storm from the forecast. It appears to be some distance off yet and I turn my car toward home. I am not sure how far away I am, nor how much time I have before the cloud lets loose. I keep checking for the monster in my rearview mirror like a cop is following me. Is it gone yet? No, it continues to drive closer as home seems further.

I feel the cool drops on my arms. I can see them on my windshield. Before I have time to fathom the storm, I find my body and car soaked. I pull to the side of the road and put my top back on. I am minutes from home. This road is familiar though I don't drive it often. The lightning strikes and the wind howls. Thunder rattles the windows. The rain pelts down and the drops jump up as they hit the road. My wipers can't keep up. I guess the Rain-X® doesn't work either. Limbs fall around me. The road is a mess. I feel like I can reach up and touch the clouds. Soaked and alone I make it home.

Why did my serene day turn stormy? Why did I let myself get caught in this storm? Why did I not return home earlier? Why does it seem like the storm came out of nowhere? I knew better to believe the day would continue to be gorgeous and perfect. Why did I ignore the stop signs? Was it because no one was around to stop me? What was the purpose of checking the forecast if I didn't follow it? Will another day like this one ever come again? Hopefully without the thunderstorm…

At home I remove my wet clothes and climb into some dry sweats. A cup of tea warms my hands and calms my spirits. I collect my thoughts for the day. The ride was wonderful until the storm hit. It changed the scenery. Trees that waved me pass are missing limbs. The river that winds underneath the road runs deeper now. The sky is dark and cloudy. My sheets encase me like a cocoon as rain continues to run down the side of the house. The remnants of the storm carry me into a restless sleep.

Research Job

If I could spend my days researching, I would travel and collect data first hand. The best way to learn is to learn first hand. I could spend my days in the town squares of Europe, and my nights in the library looking up the scientific theories behind the research. I love languages and my research would reflect this. I am fascinated with the correlation of culture/language and word choice. I enjoy tracing words over time and relating their history to present day use. The research will have to wait until retirement however, as once I begin I won't be able to stop.