It’s been snowing for years. There’s three feet of dirty hard snow covering our lawns, piles that reach higher than your head up against the road because there is no place for it to go. Can you imagine the world turning into a river if spring ever comes? We’d make rafts of our sleds and close our eyes, holding on to the sides and laughing while gliding away, away, away… One night I made a snowman by the light of my headlights. It was full of pieces of grass and bits of dirt. It’s snowed five times since then, washing out the snowman in a sea of angry white. We can’t get by with just one of anything, snow shoes do not equal work shoes, layers of clothing to keep us warm. Maybe there hasn’t been a sun in months, I wouldn’t really know. People are wrapping themselves around telephone poles because they hit the breaks too fast, buildings are collapsing into themselves because of the weight of three feet of snow. And nothing has melting, no. Not until today it rained for a while before turning to ice. Our streets turned into frozen rivers, our puddles teasing with the hard layer that sits on top. Geese try to hide their faces from the brutal winds, but the water is too cold to offer release. The children are going to attend school well into the summer, melting with humidity and yearning for freedom. We delight in the delays, but it takes just that much longer to heat up the car, clear off the snow, find that spare glove. Did you know you can get pulled over for having snow on your roof? No kidding? Tonight I drove home with ice beads pinned to my wind shield. There have been days when I’ve driven with my hand clutching the door closed. First the door is frozen closed, then the latch it frozen and it won’t stay. I locked myself out of my running car because the lock stopped working, when I thought I was unlocking it, I really locked it up. My brother has been working for approximately four weeks straight. Snow plows can’t make any more room, snow blowers keep aiming snow right into the streets. Our gloves are wet and our skin dry from the cruel games this weather plays.
A few years back I unintentionally started my own tradition to begin the spring countdown on the first day of the year. I could go without January and February and think nothing of it. I miss living in California, the warmth of the sun during the day, the complete lack of snow. I miss not feeling like I may never see the sun, ever again. I miss green and life. These are the burning days of the pheonix, waiting to be reborn.