the fat, wet snow on thursday that had been crowding the sky like locusts finally started to stick as i waited for the train.
but our mayor worried about the implications of a second snow day so soon after the first. "children belong in school," he said, and he is certainly right about that, but as i walked home thursday night in the fairytaleness of it, i couldn't help but hope for several more feet of snow and the possibility of being temporarily trapped in my cozy home.
but we are the greatest city in the world and we do not rest, do not stop for a little snow. our streets will stay clear and open. even the sidewalks in our parks will be free of snow and ready for prancing.
and next morning when we all rubbed open our eyes and peered out, certainly the sidewalks were clear. heavy fines and potential lawsuits lurk for those who don't clear their sidewalks.
but the snow was a heavy burden and cars simply could not shake themselves free. trees leaned on fences and buildings just to catch their breaths. and the salters and snowplows were no match for this sort of snow. and our very tired mayor said, "stay home".
so we sat quietly inside gingerbread houses and high rises all morning, nursing hot chocolate and oatmeal.
until the sounds of dogs whimpering at front doors and children struggling under the weight of plastic sleds and wool wrappings brought us all bravely out into the still falling snow.
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