snow continued

The strange, early March reality that is snow and avalanches continues.  It's now Tuesday morning, my third day away from work.  It is March 4th.  Usually around the start of March, I begin fixating on my birthday.  This year, the strange mountains of snow, the four lane roads turned to two, the snow-packed medium a division so unusual, so otherworldly, the way she creates traffic on Broadway, the way everyone looks like they are moving in a white and surrendered haze, makes me feel like there is no time or calendar, that this could be nowhere near the start of spring.

I turn forty on Sunday.  I'm not thinking about all things fabulous and reflective.  I'm not thinking about what I'm going to do for myself or what I want to eat for dinner that night.  I'm just sort of lost in this strange white space.  I have barely emerged from my jammies for days.  Jammies to yoga pants, back to jammies, repeat.  I read about my old 'hood, the 'hood that still feels like mine, where I work, where I walk, where my little home sits.  No school today due to avalanche danger.  They continue to evacuate homes in the area.  The sweet older woman who was buried for hours after her home was shattered by a wild pulse of white, dies in the hospital.  The thought of how quickly, how instantly, all things can change has always held my heart in her hand.  Stupefied me.  So I roll out my mat, light another candle, write down some words, kiss my babies again and again, grab my husbands hand, look out at the white world beyond my safe windows, the glow of gray and blue sky that is the early-morning light, say thank you for this, for now.