The Day After

Dear Brother,
Imagine brilliant blue like a glazed pottery bowl inverted overhead...from horizon to horizon in a perfect-seeming circle all above. Against the blue, white on white gulls wheeling and turning, calling and gossiping. Just for contrast, two fish crows as big as ravens twirl glossy black within the white dancing group, and one lone speckled adolescent gull. Looking spotty, as teens often do.

Jimmy pulling so strongly on his leash he nearly pulls me off my precarious icy way so I have to walk along the roadside, on the rough snow. One tire on the rough for traction, as Dad taught us.

Oh, the blast of arctic breeze as we pass the side streets! Oh, the soothing calm passing the windbreak of houses. Stomp, stomp, stomp to break a track in the slick frozen surface of the drift in the park gate. Then step, limp, step, limp as my feet fall through on every third step or so. One leg longer than the other. Or peg-leg. Jimmy's having an easy time of it. Not many sniffs though. Guess it was too cold out for those other wussy dogs.

Another flock rises up from its daily conference in the park. Squalling back at Jimmy for breaking it up early. Matte black dog on bright shining snow under a high blue sky.

Now Jimmy must be on a short leash, trotting along the street. No sidewalks in our little village. The short leash is compensated for by plenty of good sniffs on this block. A truck pulls far to the side as we approach the corner, now blind thanks to mountains of dirty pinkish snow thrown up by the plow.

Walking backwards, scarf held well up and tucked well in, to get a rest from the sharp wind.

By the time I wrap Jimmy's leash around the flower box, in the sunny place on the high porch of the grocery store, tears run down my cheeks and try to freeze. The sun is trapped on this wooden porch. A good place for a chair to sit and watch the comings and goings. Jimmy takes the first watch.

After the shopping, Jimmy rides home in the truck while I crazily walk home in the cold. Wind's at the back, except on the cross streets. Which there are three of. Not counting the wind across the broad, snowy park. Still, an easier walk going than coming. All the boat "bums" are lined up east of the park, awaiting open water, casting blue shadows on the clean snow.

Under the great piles of snow shovelled up on either side of the slick iced sidewalk, rose bushes rest.

Imagine what it would be like to live in a land where there is no winter. If you can.