The snow comes down like blankets from heaven. It coats everything in pure, refining white, hiding the dirt and the filth of a melting February. I trudge through it, lifting my boots high over the three inches, huffing and puffing and trying not to miss the bus. There’s a certain calm when the snow falls. It’s soothing and quiet. Muffling the sounds and distractions of an ordinary day. The snow takes the bitterness out of the air, it’s sapped the atmosphere of the arctic chill that makes you pull your hat lower and your scarf higher. The snow lets you breathe easy and relax the muscles in your back and your shoulders that tighten when the January air sucks every bit of warmth from your jacket and your gloves and your boots and the tiny gap between your gloves and your coat sleeve.
I collapse on the bus in a slump, letting my bags sit on my lap and listening to the crunch of the massive bus wheels going round and round through the dirty brown snow caked on the road like batter. It’s days like today that make winter worthwhile.