It snowed last Thursday, and the flakes kept coming down all through the day on Friday. Then it changed to freezing rain, and by Saturday morning it was like everything had been dipped in a half-inch coating of glass. Branches drooped with the unfamiliar icy weight, and soon trees started breaking apart and coming down with the heart-sinking tinkling crash of a collapsing champagne tower. Big green flashes from blown transformers, canceled plans, cabin fever creeping in. This suuuuucks, I moaned, leaving an oily noseprint on the window. Stare, stare, paw at the door like a cooped-up dog, pick my way across the crusted-over snow and screw up my face with a big AW SHIT when my foot plunges into bone-cold wetness. Ugh.
Riley, from the backseat of our truck as we skidded carefully down the street on Saturday afternoon: “Well, soon enough this will all be gone and it’ll be back to how it always is, just like you wanted. And it won’t be different any more.”
He was right. I mean, it is back to how it always is, for the most part. Wet and February-ish, with extra sogginess from the leftover slush. Dirt and debris everywhere from all those fallen trees. Everyone back in school, no snowmen to build, that strange icy wonderland already fading in the rearview.