Comes Apart
Everything that is built will most certainly one day crumble.
That was on my mind as the storm passed through.
We were at green grass.
Then we were buried.
We all watched from the window as the world of white outside was created.
Flake by flake we had a brand new reality.
And it's weird.
All the things we take for granted were put on hold.
Just getting up and running to the corner to rent a movie was impossible.
And with this storm there was a real ebb and flow to it.
We knew when we were getting more. We were told when it would stop.
We would watch what had been built by cold air passing over a warm lake...
...come apart again.
There was everything in play during the down time.
Frustration was tempered by patience.
Aggravation disappeared when Sam laughed or Jake showed me a video of a great hockey goal, or we watched another episode of Homeland.
We were together and safe and still whole.
Hopelessness was lost in the fact that there was still hope.
"Buffalo is used to this," people said on the news.
(Not true).
"Buffalo bands together and grits their teeth and clears the snow."
(Normally...this time...we were tested).
By Friday morning the icicles were dripping.
I knocked a few of the bigger ones clear of the back porch.
It's starting to crumble.
But it would crumble slowly.
People started posting photos of their clean drives and their vehicles out of the snowed in places.
"I hate those people," I said with a laugh.
"We'll get out eventually," he said. "I hope."
Man, the dope's that there's still hope. (Bruce lyric).
There have been 13 deaths so far.
The news anchors are keeping track. Just a number that's going up.
"Hopefully that number stays low," one of the anchors said.
13 lives that had been fully whole came apart.
It was 13 too high.
"You have to watch when you shovel," Kathy said. "People in their 50's are having heart attacks."
She wasn't being funny.
I watched a lot of the storm's coming apart from the window.
I couldn't see out the window just a few days ago...but now...hope...the back-up alarm of the plows...people actually walking down the street...the dogs moving more than 5 feet out the door.
Even the dogs sensing that the wallop was nearing a conclusion.
Thankfully the storm came apart before we did.
That was on my mind as the storm passed through.
We were at green grass.
Then we were buried.
We all watched from the window as the world of white outside was created.
Flake by flake we had a brand new reality.
And it's weird.
All the things we take for granted were put on hold.
Just getting up and running to the corner to rent a movie was impossible.
And with this storm there was a real ebb and flow to it.
We knew when we were getting more. We were told when it would stop.
We would watch what had been built by cold air passing over a warm lake...
...come apart again.
There was everything in play during the down time.
Frustration was tempered by patience.
Aggravation disappeared when Sam laughed or Jake showed me a video of a great hockey goal, or we watched another episode of Homeland.
We were together and safe and still whole.
Hopelessness was lost in the fact that there was still hope.
"Buffalo is used to this," people said on the news.
(Not true).
"Buffalo bands together and grits their teeth and clears the snow."
(Normally...this time...we were tested).
By Friday morning the icicles were dripping.
I knocked a few of the bigger ones clear of the back porch.
It's starting to crumble.
But it would crumble slowly.
People started posting photos of their clean drives and their vehicles out of the snowed in places.
"I hate those people," I said with a laugh.
"We'll get out eventually," he said. "I hope."
Man, the dope's that there's still hope. (Bruce lyric).
There have been 13 deaths so far.
The news anchors are keeping track. Just a number that's going up.
"Hopefully that number stays low," one of the anchors said.
13 lives that had been fully whole came apart.
It was 13 too high.
"You have to watch when you shovel," Kathy said. "People in their 50's are having heart attacks."
She wasn't being funny.
I watched a lot of the storm's coming apart from the window.
I couldn't see out the window just a few days ago...but now...hope...the back-up alarm of the plows...people actually walking down the street...the dogs moving more than 5 feet out the door.
Even the dogs sensing that the wallop was nearing a conclusion.
Thankfully the storm came apart before we did.
Comments