It’s the first snow of 2020 in Delaware. The curtains are parted and the blinds lifted, to give an uninterrupted view of the white flake gala. As if on cue, flurries land softly on thin grass blades; the air turns still in suspense, and the sky turns grey like freshly-laid cement.
It’s a drama that’s heart-wrenchingly beautiful, depressingly comical. A play of ironies, a dance of opposites.
The window bravely stands between the conditioned warmth inside, and the wild cold outside. While the branches languidly shake off the shimmering flakes, inside, a lavender-scented soy candle fights the gloom with its single wick. It throws light on everything at reach —the beige carpet, the grey paper cranes, and a dusty black heater that oscillates a continuous stream of hot dry air.
As the wax melts, the snow thickens. From somewhere far, the sound of traffic comes in like a muffled storm.
The phone blinks, a reminder of unanswered texts, story deadlines, and blocked calls. On the table rest a pile of handwritten letters and Thank You cards, to-do lists and recipes noted down in a haste… each yearning for a glance, some attention.
But all can wait. For, what’s on is a performance by the band of clouds. ‘Tis the premiere of snow in Delaware.