Sentimental Mood

african american woman looking out a window

They called it a Super Storm on the weather report. Not a blizzard. They even named the meteorological beast: Super Storm Ellen. The snow began yesterday afternoon. The markets were crowded with last minute shoppers who cleared the shelves of milk, bread, eggs and bananas. I’m still not quite sure how bananas help when one is snowed in. By late evening, the roads were quiet, except for the sound of the plow trucks, salting and scraping the roads. Ellen would not get the best of us. We were ready to hunker down and wait her out.

I woke up this morning and listened to the silence. No chirping birds, or a chittering squirrels announced the new day. I didn’t hear the usual hustle and bustle of activity outside my window of neighbors setting out to start their day. There was a pronounced hush outside that one only heard during winter storms. I took a peek through my bedroom window to survey the landscape. The word ‘storm’ seemed unfitting. The scene outside my window was too pretty. There was a heavy dusting of white powder coating the tree branches. The cars parked along the curb and in the parking lot were nothing more than a series of lumps with only their side mirrors identifying them as parked vehicles. Even the wheels were hidden beneath drifts of snow.

I curled up on the sofa by the living room window with my morning cup of coffee, and watched the snow as it continued to fall softly and quietly. I grabbed the remote and turned to the jazz station to set the mood. I made a mental note of the chores I’d neglected over the past few weeks. I had no excuse for not tackling any of them over the next few days. I didn’t have to worry about many clients calling today or showing up this week. Most had  already rescheduled their appointments in anticipation of Ellen’s arrival.

As the music played in the back ground, I prayed that this would be the last major snow storm of the season. It was only mid-February. I was tired of snow! But I knew we’d probably see a few more storms before spring. I looked over the snow and ice encrusted neighborhood twinkling in the sun, and imagined the trees and grass, lush and green. I longed to see the first pink buds on the magnolia tree that shaded my veranda. I couldn’t wait to open the patio doors of the studio during the tai-chi and yoga classes, and let fresh air wash over us. I’m not a child anymore and winter doesn’t thrill me the way it used to. I despise dressing in layers to run errands. I prefer sandals and cropped pants. But who am I fooling? When spring gets here, I’ll be wishing for summer, and pining for the sensation of sun on my bare skin and sand between my toes. Silly me. Why wish my life away? I drifted from my warm weather fantasy and returned to this moment. No need to look beyond now and wish for anything else. This moment was absolutely perfect.

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