Rowyn (rowyn) wrote,


I've been trying to write down everything I know about my job so that I can explain it to a group of people in less than 90 minutes tomorrow morning. I think this is rather a doomed venture, but I've tried.

I stayed late working on it. As one of my co-workers got ready to leave, she remarked to me, with a shake of her head: "Wasn't it snowing earlier? I thought I saw snow falling."

I told her I hadn't seen anything. But I often don't. The walls where I work are all glass windows, but I'm surrounded by cube walls and don't look around much. At 5:30, after I threw on my cloak and went to leave, I saw the snow falling.

Fat white flakes were fluttering down. They were perfectly illuminated by the headlights of an SUV parked in front of the bank, and silhouetted against the evening sky. I caught my breath. I thought, "Isn't it beautiful?"

I forgot about the project I had been working on, about another co-worker so frazzled she had burst into tears an hour ago, about the novel that I need to work on tonight, the presentation I need to give tomorrow, the emails I have to send. I forgot about the long walk home in the dark from the bus stop.

I stepped into the night, and gazed up at the falling snow, and was glad.

I waited for the bus with snow dusting my cloak and my hair, falling thickly enough that I opted to stop reading instead of watching the pages get wet with flakes. I didn't mind.

When I got off the bus and crossed the second intersection to stand before the 7-11, another bus, whose route runs for most of my remaining walk, was waiting at the light. I was just in time to flag it down and board so that I wouldn't have to walk home down the dark street in the quasi-slum I call home. The timing was perfect.

I turned and watched the snow falling in the street lights, and I let the bus go by. I walked home, my shoulders encrusted with snow. I watched the sky, and the snow clinging to the withered grass, limning the branches of trees with frost. I watched the streets glittering with melted snow as the cars whisked by in the night. I felt the magic of the moment, and with my hair trimmed in frost and my great black cloak dotted with white flakes, I felt a part of it. Part of a magical night, in a magical world.

Sometimes I forget.

I must try to remember.

Thank you, O Lord.
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