Outside the sky is dark. The clouds hang low and heavy. Humidity is in the air. The road is lined with bare trees and pot holes. Houses are empty – for sale, or foreclosed. Swing sets sit abandoned in the back yards. Cars are rusty and old. They squeal each time they are started. The dumpster piles over.
A weatherman calls for snow. The stores run dry of milk and bread is sold out. Main St. is busy with folks rushing home.
The snow falls. The roads become slippery and driving is not advisable. It piles upon the cars in the lot. Inches on inches build on the trees, sidewalks, and rooftops. The world is coated.
I sit inside the warmth. I fester with cabin fever. News reporters are advising us not to go outside. Someone needs to shovel the walkway and I'd like to clean off my car. We are snowbound.
A window shows me the outside. It is peaceful and treacherous. The snow has covered the imperfections. Yesterday's mistakes are not gone, but forgotten for now. No one has walked through the white depths yet. The snow tops are smooth and glistening. A blanket of tranquility is laid upon the land.
Tomorrow we will recover. We will unbury the over-snowed and try our luck on the icy roads. We will shovel and sweat. We will crash and conquer. We will relive the snow storm moments, and we will rejoice with the sun. The snow will melt and until the world looks green again, we can keep this blanket to keep us warm and serene.
-Picture by Claire Houle, edited by me
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