First snow

There is no snow here. Tomorrow we are leaving town for the holidays, December is closer to the end than the beginning, and, still, no snow. It feels undone.

This unfulfilled expectation of snow somehow reminds me of a mid-December day a couple of years ago. The snow came then. Heavy and fast, foot after foot fell through the evening and into the night. It was beautiful, in the dark, to watch it piling and whirling under the street lamps. I stayed with my very new boyfriend Jared and his very new roommate Brent in their very new apartment to wait out the storm. In the morning, Brent made us all pancakes and served them up on floppy paper plates.

The place was all wood floors and big windows, full of sun and light from the snow. Two burnt orange couches were the only furniture in the house. Jared and I sat on the familiar one against the side window, the one from his previous apartment. We were each on either end, facing one another. He sat leaning back with one leg on the floor and one extended across the sofa. I liked how soft he looked in the morning. I liked that he was watching me. I looked out at the still falling snow. The flakes were big and sparkling. The whole street looked gracious and idyllic, with snow sitting heavy on the trees and houses. I watched snowflakes whirl towards the windowpane and I wondered if he was still watching me.

"I love you," he said. I looked at him, still and serious for a long moment. "Come here," he said. I crawled over into his arms and pressed my face into his neck. "I love you," I said. "I know," he replied.

The room stayed light with the white from outside and this new magic. New snow and new love. I always wait for this feeling again in the winter.