White Tuesday

I was smiling underneath my coat hood tonight.

When I was a kid, I was quite oblivious to the "damage" being done to me. I didn't realize how much it would effect me that we moved so much, that there was upheaval, and disappointment. As children tend to do, I always seemed to filter these things out and store them for the time that would come when I would inevitably be much more aware. What I did notice, was that almost every time my family moved...it rained. Now, as a 24 year old woman...I hate rain. I hate everything about it accept for the sounds it creates on a rooftop.

I left work tonight with one goal in mind. Get home soon. I got on my usual 3 train, but didn't get far before it started slowing down. The loud speaker broke through the silence and informed us at the Chambers Street stop that another train ahead of us was stalled and we would be waiting for a bit. So, I waited. The next stop was the same scenario, and again I waited. Only this time, I realized I could connect to the A and take the 4 home instead of waiting on a stalled line. So I did. After getting off the A and walking through the tunnel to the 4 I arrived just in time to see that the 4 was so full, not even a small child could fit inside it's doors. So it left without me. I waited some more, and this time a 2 showed up. The 2 doesn't go to my neighborhood, but it would get me close enough, so I got on. It was packed, smelly, damp and loud. My frustration seemed to collect in the tips of my fingers and the end of my nose. I was approaching livid. Then I got off of the 2 and crossed the path to take the 4. I waited...

...And waited some more.

Finally the 4 came and took a crap load of angry Brooklynites (?) home. I was steaming by the time I got off at my stop, nearly an hour behind. The cold air started to hit me sooner than usual as I climbed the steps to exit, which meant that the temperature had dropped drastically since I left Manhattan. Then I cam out of the station and onto the street.

I was in a snow globe. Wisps of white cotton was falling heavily on everything around me. The cars were covered, the houses were frosted and the sky was almost completely white. My California ass started swatting the snow away trying to make my way through. But as I walked, and the snow transformed from flakes to drops of water on the sidewalk, my frustration seemed to melt away too. By the time I got to my street I was smiling like a school girl.

In between the moving, the fighting, the disappointment and the let downs...there was snow. Sporadic though the occasion was, on trips to Tahoe or staying with my Great Grandparents in Ohio there were mounds of crunchy snow. The thought occurred to me as I walked through it that my happiest times as a child were spent in snow. I had no bad memories of snow, nothing to feel except unencumbered. And so, sappy as this might sound, I mumbled a thank you before reaching my door stoop.

The smallest things, sometimes as small as a 6 degree drop in temperature can make you remember that nothing is all bad.