I woke up about 5 am on Friday and saw that it had snowed. I didn’t have my glasses on and at first I thought it had snowed a lot. Got up, got glasses, closer inspection revealed only an inch or two of snow. Sure, more than the powered sugar dusting I was expecting, but not big deal. By the time I went to work at 10:30 the roads were clear. Cleaning off my car was still a pain in the ass, but the roads were good. When I came home that night snow was only left where there was grass, everything else was clear and dry. By midday yesterday it was pretty much entirely gone, except in tiny, tiny pockets that stayed in shadow all day.
This morning I woke up around 7 am, had a brief mental struggle where I tried to figure out what day it was, opened my eyes and saw snow again. I literally thought, for half a second, “Man, this isn’t the day I want to keep reliving until I get it right. Nothing happened today,” until I figured out it was actually Sunday and not Friday all over again. And this time it is the powered sugar dusting I expected, already almost completely gone and it’s not yet noon.
I really can’t think of a day I’d re-live. Maybe that early autumn day at the beach at Sitges, Spain. Or perhaps some hideously crappy day over again until I made it good? Hmm, I don’t know.
I long for spring. Ache for it. Like a lover long since shipped out to see, whose return I am still unsure of. It seems spring will never arrive, though I know it must because if it doesn’t, well, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.