the upside to snow

it is a postcard outside. a postcard of the east coast collegiate aesthetic. there is an old building, early eighteen hundreds i guess, all stone masonry, occupied by a frat house and the big snow storm of the season has begun in earnest. a sleepy hollow esque tree curls and bends up into the orange glow of the city night sky. it is a silent night in the city. i imagine LA never sounds this way- they never have quiet weather. earhtquakes are loud, fires are loud, mud is loud. snow is quiet, earnest, humbling- likely to make you miss your family or an old friend, anyone who’d be willing to stay up late and eat doritoes and watch bad TV or play cards while the sky slowly unleashes a quiet cold demon upon the land, and in the morning put on five layers of clothing you drag out of a closet and take sleds or an old trash can lid and build forts outside and throw snowballs or make sculptures and sled down barely visible inclines. then when the light starts to fade and you can’t feel your toes or even your thighs, you stumble through the door, peeling off each layer one by one, hunks of snow dropping off you onto to living room floor and the last one to get changed has to make the tea or hot chocolate for everyone else and you sit in fresh warm comfy clothes, cheeks still ruddy from the cold on the couch sipping hot liquid and feeling altogether alive.