When Snow Arrives in the Morning

I live no more than a five-minute drive from my work so I take my guilty pleasures on a morning like this. I can sit in my office and actually enjoy the strange white punctuation covering the view from my window.

I hear colleagues down the hall talking about cities and towns an hour away and the snow those places are already getting. I sense the urgency in their quiet voices.

I recall the homes I drove past a half hour ago on my usual route to work. For the first time in a long while I was aware of which windows in each home were yellow with lamplight and which had stayed dark from the winter night just ended.

I do not think in my childhood in New Orleans I ever dreamed of being a man in his fifties living a morning like this one. I like that idea, though.