(This is for the Slice of Life, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. We write each Tuesday — and all through March — about the small moments in the larger perspective … or is that the larger perspective in the smaller moments? You write, too.)
A good friend of mine yesterday sent his group of pals — including me — a beautiful shot of the beach near his house as a text message. Blue skies. Sun, bright as a flashlight. Waves lapping at the shore. Sand everywhere you look. He lives just a few hours south of me, in Connecticut.
“Lovely day at the beach,” he wrote.
It felt like he was taunting me.
I looked out my back door here in Western Massachusetts, saw nothing but hills of white, and a snowman my son and I built the other day leaning left, and texted back: “Still got $%&*load of snow in our yard.”
There is still way too much snow here, although this week’s warming weather — via the same weather front that is giving him temps in the mid-50s to low 60s — will likely melt off a few more inches, and likely create more ice for us to slip on. But still, who can argue with warmer weather during February break? We might even hit 50 this week.
My son rode his bike on the bike path all the way into the town center for a breakfast sandwich yesterday. No ice on the path, he reported, as if he were a scout on patrol for the changing season and monsters were just on the edge of the horizon.
I nodded at his keen observation. It’s way too early to be looking for flowers and I am no fool. The calendar says “February,” and I know winter ain’t done with us yet.
But even fools can dream of Spring, right?
Peace (sunny and mild),