Watching the snow fall, Ted didn’t realize how much time was passing. Warm, sitting by the radiator, sipping his black coffee, munching on a chocolate chip cookie, he tracked the white flakes that danced outside of the kitchen window. The sound of an occasional car driving by competed with the clicking noise of the second hand on the wall clock. Ted sipped, chewed, listened and watched. Time swirled away.
He was always amazed at how quiet things got when it snowed. Not just the lessening of traffic, but a stillness in the air; sound muffled, the snow acting as a natural buffer against the everyday. Ted enjoyed days like this. He had already cleaned his car off once, and knew he’d have to do it again, but he wasn’t going anywhere. A storm warning level that advised not to get on the roads unless it was an emergency suited his mood.
This was a non-stressful day. While others bemoaned the snowy and icy roads-and Ted understood that, hating to drive on days like this-Ted didn’t see the point about complaining. It was part of the picture, living in the north east. Besides, there were so many years where there was barely a dusting of snow.
Not now. Looking out at the trees and electrical lines overhead, there was a white gleaming landscape. Ice glittered along rooftops, hanging down along the sides of the buildings. The snow gathered on top of branches and posts and cars and the street, and it was serene. Nothing looked brown and dead (which his father used to say about late Fall); it all looked clean. Ted knew this wouldn’t last. He didn’t care. He just needed to enjoy this while he could.
Putting his shoes on, Ted threw on a hat and a scarf. With coffee cup in hand, he went outside to the porch. Brushing off a cover of snow, Ted sat down, sipped his coffee, and let the snow twirl around him.