The Absence Of Winter...
It is 9:31 pm on Saturday and i t is uncharacteristically quiet in my home. The sounds of my fingers hitting the keyboard is reminiscent of a brook, tucked away in the backwoods, behind the Log Cabin I haven't built yet, on the land I will probably never own. I find that today, I am quietly mourning the absence of Winter in New York. There have been no snow days. No backaches from shoveling. No snow angels. No snowball fights. No need for hot chocolate. No vacant stares into the night, transfixed by snowflakes falling in front of the streetlights. I haven't once uttered the words, "don't eat the yellow snow" to my daughters. Not even a trace of the scent of a burning fireplace hangs in the air. Hell, even Carvel is still open but Carvel is always open, so I guess that doesn't count. Why is there no Winter? I wore shorts and a t-shirt today. My Sweaters weep pathetic woolen tears every time I open my armoire. "Stop crying you sissy Sweaters!" "Bu...