(the sound Sideshow Bob makes when he gets nailed in the face by a rake)
So, here I am. Sitting in my dorm room in Decatur, at good ol' Millikin U. In northwestern Chicago my
parents sit in their "breakfast nook" watching the sky drop more weight on their home and the already two inches covering their deck and backyard; the pond which I helped construct is frozen into a solid block and seems to have blended into everything else. That's the great part about snow, things become non-discriminate mountains, white masses smoothed and dulled. The most interesting part is the anticipation that builds as spring comes on and we wait to see what all had been buried. Betting which object will surface first, and where the rake that we left out a month ago is. But this is midday, the snow is still falling, and children are mostly trapped indoors. Waiting, fogging windows with store bought hot chocolate breathe for their mothers to tell them to go outside, holding the vacuum handle and shaking her head back and forth in the playroom-basement. The snow's conclusion marks this time. Time for children to run outside in overstuft snow pants and long-underwear under t-shirt under sweater under puffy coat with blueprints for forts, sledding discs and hopes that they won't be the ones to be cracked in the face by the lingering rake.
This is, of course, my imagination of things; because, here in Decatur the rain stopped around six o'clock
