Anticipation, heartbeat

Posted on December 19, 2008

3


It’s the waiting, expecting.

The little cynics inside us sneer and say that we’ll only get a dusting of snow, when in reality we’re all expecting to wake up tomorrow to find a world that’s white and blank.

A foot of snow forecasted for overnight, and it’s not even snowing yet at 2am.

But I did check the window.

There’s something about the picture in our heads. The picture of waking up, scuffing in my blue slippers into the kitchen and looking out the window towards the parking lot to find it swelling with white, winter sand. The snowflakes are still falling in clumps and we’re lost inside our own neighborhood. I’ll fortify my afternoon with blankets, a David Sedaris book and a steaming bowl of Cream of Wheat. The snow will light the living room and my roommates will be on the couch watching a movie. I’ll slowly carve my afternoon into a solitary, cozy, December memory.

We’ll be snowed in.

Right this very moment though, two hours after the forecasted start time, not a flake is seen to be falling. It’s the anticipation that counts.

 

We’re all planning,

peering out through the front window,

pressing our noses against the cold glass

to see if the porch light tells us that the rumors were true

and that we’re snowed in.

 

It’s the anticipation that counts.
The anticipation, the heartbeat.

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