For the first time this season, there is a steady stream of
wet, white snow coming down. Out my window, I can see a thin layer of it
collecting on the top of telephone wires and blanketing the rooftops. All of the people I’ve passed today, the Body Jam instructor at the gym, the woman who
handed me a large cup of coffee at the counter of Porter Square Books and the
French family sipping espressos at a table near by, had something to
say about it. It’s going to be a long winter, we all agreed. This is just the
beginning.
There is something exciting about beginnings, even if the
beginning marks mornings of scraping ice off the car windshield and afternoon
drives home in the dark. Beginnings remind us that our lives are progressing. That believe it or not, the world is well enough to do it all again, and we have another chance to live through it.
So we’ll see how it goes. So far so good. My roommate promised to start the Christmas music early. The
grocery store replaced Halloween candy with candy canes. I made myself a hot toddy after work. Last night, at a
friends 30th birthday celebration in Harvard Square, I wore my LL
Bean boots. “They’re out again!” someone said from across the bar. I smiled and
stuck my right foot out in front of me, tapping the rubber heel against the ground. "Yes!" I replied, a little buzzed from a cinnamon and whiskey cocktail and the warmth of the crowded, dimly lit basement,"They're ready for
another one."
