snow

I stay up, partly to hear the Mayor's decision on New York City school closings, which will affect office closings.  The cars and street oustide my apartment grow dim under layer after layer of snow.  A woman dragged her suitcase down the middle of the road, and I wondered where she could be going or coming from at such an hour and thought about her toes.  They must be numb.  Her neck may be moist with melting flakes, and her cheeks stinging from wind gusts.  A kitten kneads a pillow by my side.  My radiator spits and cackles, and I think the elderly people in my building must be content with the heat coursing through the pipes.

I just watched Jon Stewart's reaction to the Giffords shooting.  It was one of the most sober pieces I have ever seen him present.  The shooting and the snow kindle some mixture of sadness and nostalgia in me; I don't know why the nostalgia.  Maybe because I think of sitting on a couch in the piano room of my old home in Virginia.  I used to look down our property to the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains that were draped in snow during the winter months.

Happy snow day, everyone.  Stay warm.