You know the hard thing about having teeth in the winter? They chatter like the Dickens when you go outside and it is snowing and cold and you are wearing just the slightest suggestion of a jacket or shawl because you have to scramble out of someone else’s place in the wee hours of the morning because you hear that faint sound of keys in the door and that voice that says, “Hey Honi, I’m back from my trip early…”
CRAP! Why does he have to live on the 3rd floor?!
And then when you successfully navigate the fire escape, you have to move the overflowing trash cans with your bare feet – no time to put on the shoes yet. Plus, a 5-month-old white summer wedge doesn’t always go well with rusty metal ladders and regret, now does it?
But even with all that unexpected cardio, I have to admit, there is something kind of gorgeous about that first snow fall, even if it is accompanied by the harsh clacking of chattering teeth. (At least I’ve got more than most of the rest of my neighbors.) And there is something kind of pure about the snow too. It sort of wipes the slate clean and lets you start fresh again. It is like seeing an old friend for the first time; An old friend that will only leave the tale-tell signs of your footprints on that guy’s balcony and fire escape for as long it takes to disappear in the blinding blanket of it drifting down from the sky.
And then, under its cover, you disappear completely…victory.
Thank you, first snowfall. That was a close one.