2005-01-22 @ 11:18 p.m.

the wind is whipping with that low howl. the plows are rumbling by, two at a time. mother nature is threatening eighteen inches of snow by morning in the form of this blizzard.

and the sounds and feel of tonight remind me of when i was young. nights like this. when there was a blizzard or noreaster or just a good old snowstorm warning. we would pull our comforters off of our beds and bring them downstairs and lay in front of the television until it inevitably snapped off. the power goes out and my mother lights the candles and turns the flashlights on that she always has at the ready. then we would play games and drink hot chocolate by candlelight. or my mother would tell us stories. about pixies and heroes and fairies and pirates and of course, all of these fanciful animals. and then we would just fall asleep. right there on the living room floor.

my mother, my brother and i.

i love nights like this. i always have. the world outside seems nonexistant somehow. everyone is hunkered down in their homes. and it feels like we are the only ones in the world. and all the problems of the world melt away for a little while. for me, thats the feeling that a blizzard has always brought. closeness and peace somehow. theres a slight feeling of strandedness, but not in a bad way. the whole world just seems so silent and still and quiet and its hard for me to imagine that this isnt happening everywhere.

so now. twenty five years later. i sit at the computer. and i wonder where my brother is and hope he isnt out driving. hope he isnt doing his route tonight. and i wonder where my mother is. and wish they were both here. and wonder what we would do if we were all together back on oak street tonight. what a pleasure it would be to curl up in my blanket. and drink hot chocolate and talk over candlelight. and fall asleep. right there on the living room floor.

my mother, my brother and i.