Poets Take the Weather So Personally

Well, we finally got our snow.  A solid snow.  Solid for the South anyway.  It started falling fast right before bedtime.  That, of course, meant that bedtime had to be delayed.  We played until we were numb and wet through.  Then we had a cup of contented cocoa before falling, each of us, into our own winter dreamland.  When we arose the world was white and calm, in a serene way that only snow can bring about.  We played until we were numb and wet through.  We crammed everything we had been longing to do into a few hours.  A snowman, a snow fort, a snowball fight, snow angels, and sledding.

Two years.  That's how long we waited for snow.  Some weeks earlier the boy had decided that if it didn't snow this year we should move to a place where winter was more predictable.  I told him that I'd take it under consideration.  Then it did snow, so there was nothing to consider.  Or so I thought.   As I sat at the window watching them play in the snow, my heart was content.   I wondered about the snow and the magic it has to calm a noisy mind.  How is it that a blanket of white can stir imaginative thoughts and clarity?

This place has not been particularly kind to me.  In fact, it's been a big bad bully who's thrown a few compliments my way to justify the meanness.  I waited for the snow.  I longed for the snow.  I needed the pure, clean, and cold to clean the slate.  It had not snowed since I separated from the porch swing.  Now with the divorce final, I needed the death of winter so that new life could grow.  (I'm a poet.  We take the weather very personally, you know.*)  I stared out at the snow and felt me heart calm.  But I also felt it begin to tug in new directions.

It's time for new direction.  I don't know where or when or how or what.  But it's time for a move.  And I don't even know if that means leaving this city.  All I know is that I need a fresh start.  Me and my three, we have endured.  It is time to settle.  I feel it in my very soul.  I need to be in place that is more predictable.  Our future is officially under consideration.

*J.D. Salinger - "Poets are always taking the weather so personally."