New York Minute: Part Four
YESTERDAY MORNING
spiceboy managed to sneak into town just before the storm hit on Saturday, which definitely made the blizzard more bearable.
“Listen,” he said yesterday morning while we were still bundled in bed, watching the snow fall outside our window.
I listened. “I don’t hear anything,” I replied.
“Exactly,” he said.
There were no cars, no trucks, no honking horns. Just quiet, punctuated by the occasional sound of a shovel scraping the sidewalk.
YESTERDAY AFTERNOON
It was still snowing well into the afternoon. Huge, fluffy flakes—like the snowflakes you’d see in a movie. Union Square looked like a winter postcard, and I was overtaken by that familiar childlike joy that always seems to come with a large snowfall.
An impromptu football game had broken out in the park, and dogs ran all about, barking and tossing snow into the air with their snouts. Little kids gleefully threw themselves into huge mounds of fluffy snow again and again.
I jumped up and down and hugged spiceboy repeatedly.
As we waited to cross 14th Street, I glanced behind me and spotted an older redheaded woman, bundled against the cold. She turned her face skyward, letting the flakes fall on her cheeks. Then she stuck out her tongue—a flash of pink—and caught one snowflake, then another. Then she smiled to herself.
It was the kind of day that made everyone feel like a child.
THIS MORNING
Having recently watched March of the Penguins, it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance between the penguins in the movie and New Yorkers on their way to work this morning.
Heavily clothed women and men waddled down the sidewalks, stiff-legged in their heavy snow boots. They picked their way over mounds of snow, jostled to get into single file lines to cross the streets, and huddled together in large groups against the cold winds while waiting for the bus, blowing out exasperated puffs of white air and murmuring amongst themselves.
That’s all. Happy Monday.
spiceboy managed to sneak into town just before the storm hit on Saturday, which definitely made the blizzard more bearable.
“Listen,” he said yesterday morning while we were still bundled in bed, watching the snow fall outside our window.
I listened. “I don’t hear anything,” I replied.
“Exactly,” he said.
There were no cars, no trucks, no honking horns. Just quiet, punctuated by the occasional sound of a shovel scraping the sidewalk.
YESTERDAY AFTERNOON
It was still snowing well into the afternoon. Huge, fluffy flakes—like the snowflakes you’d see in a movie. Union Square looked like a winter postcard, and I was overtaken by that familiar childlike joy that always seems to come with a large snowfall.
An impromptu football game had broken out in the park, and dogs ran all about, barking and tossing snow into the air with their snouts. Little kids gleefully threw themselves into huge mounds of fluffy snow again and again.
I jumped up and down and hugged spiceboy repeatedly.
As we waited to cross 14th Street, I glanced behind me and spotted an older redheaded woman, bundled against the cold. She turned her face skyward, letting the flakes fall on her cheeks. Then she stuck out her tongue—a flash of pink—and caught one snowflake, then another. Then she smiled to herself.
It was the kind of day that made everyone feel like a child.
THIS MORNING
Having recently watched March of the Penguins, it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance between the penguins in the movie and New Yorkers on their way to work this morning.
Heavily clothed women and men waddled down the sidewalks, stiff-legged in their heavy snow boots. They picked their way over mounds of snow, jostled to get into single file lines to cross the streets, and huddled together in large groups against the cold winds while waiting for the bus, blowing out exasperated puffs of white air and murmuring amongst themselves.
That’s all. Happy Monday.
posted by east side girl at 9:31 AM
4 Comments:
It's funny you should have that take on March of the Penguins - I agree with you completely.
Yay! Glad that you're back from your little break and equally glad that you got to enjoy the snow with Spiceboy.
that familiar childlike joy that always seems to come with a large snowfall.
i got a hint of it just reading this.
it's a mixed blessing not getting a lot of snow here in chicago. on the one hand, it's less shoveling and scraping and dirtied pant hems. on the other hand, you start to forget about moments like these. thanks for sharing!
I dragged my significant other out of the apartment to make snow angels on Sunday. I'd never seen him lying on the ground before! By Monday, our perfect angels had been covered up by fresh snow.
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