Rolling into work early on a January friday morning. The sign at the bank says 22 degrees. Pedestrians hurry along with breath steaming as they make their way in the cold. A jetliner rises steadily and silently from the horizon in the cloudless blue sky.
I stop at the red light. A woman on the corner is angry a bus didn’t pick her up. She is literally and figuratively steaming. I sympathize, and even more so, when I see she’s with her bundled up child. I go to work.
A massive storm moves up the East coast Saturday morning. The news reports a national disaster. We go shopping and a snow squall hits. We feel bad for the poor, snow-challenged denizens of the mid-Atlantic states but we’re happy it’s them not us. Later, in a full-fledged blizzard, we struggle through the blinding snow to the corner pub for a cozy dinner. The storm abates. We walk through the drifts on the way home under the stars. Winter is beautiful. At home my snow blower won’t start. I am no longer enchanted with the wintry evening.
Sunday morning. The world looks beautiful under its pristine white blanket. I feed the birds and go to church. Not a cloud in the sky. We relax and watch football.
I try not to think about rolling into work on Monday.
copyright 2016 Magnus Incognito