It is snowing.
I am distracted from my afternoon meeting,
Watching flakes fall (so close, so far) on the other side of
the window pane.
I cannot wait to get home.
Driving on slick streets is not my idea of entertainment.
I stop to buy a small jug of milk just in case I need it
later.
I turn down the street that connects to mine,
The street that runs between two cemeteries.
It is silent,
Windless,
The snow adhering to the everything it touches:
The trees, the stone walls, the grave markers, the church,
the ground.
As soon as I back the car into the driveway,
I unload my work gear, throw the milk in the fridge, and
grab
My camera.
I am still in work clothes but smartly wore hiking boots,
Anticipating a snowy homeward commute.
I change my jacket to one that will zip up to protect the
Canon as I walk
Through the snow that is falling steadier now.
Light fades.
Evening falls too early during the winter, earlier still
with the storm.
I bring the camera to my eye, making sure it sees exactly what I see, sees exactly as I see.
Its lens and my eye's lens melt together like the wet snow
that
Lands and melts on my gloves.
It is snowing,
Covering the silent graves with its wordless white,
The only sounds coming from my boots crunching across the
surface and the steady
Click … click … click …
Of the mechanism shooting frame after frame after frame.
I stay until I am frozen, hands crippled into claws, and
Use my leathered talons to readjust the memory machine
inside my coat
Before I zipper it shut as high as it will go all coated
with ice crystals.
It is difficult to untie the laces of my boots, but once I
do,
Water is set to boil.
A flashback - warm milk, unsweetened cocoa, and sugar,
Melting together in a deep pan -
Leads me away from tea and to hot chocolate.
I open the milk I wisely purchased, adding it to
Marshmallows and cocoa.
Marshmallows and cocoa.
For a moment I am distracted from my day,
Watching flakes fall (so close, so far) on the other side of
the window pane.
The wait is over;
I am home.
