Posts Tagged ‘First Snow’

First snow of the season, hugging tree, street, and sidewalk.

Shuffling westward, ankle deep, the sidewalk snow was pristine.  Cars and trucks lumbered by inches away, but the blemish-free snow underfoot made for undiscovered country in the most common of places.

Several blocks on, I came upon an east-going traveler.  Bundled more expertly than me against the temps and terrain, she walked the same print-dash-print-dash as me, a Morse code trail heading the opposite direction.

When we crossed paths, my cheery greeting was met with a smile.  Thereafter I did something I usually only think about–I walked in the footsteps of someone else.

The print-dash-print was longer than mine.  Walking in her tracks, already forged, made for easier walking.  But in the exchange, the unbroken potential had disappeared.  The snow, both ridged and flattened, was defined, in a glance it was, rather than what it could be.

Walking forward I unwound her past, reliving steps already in her memory–just as she was likely inhabiting mine.

I turned off on a side street. Our paths diverged. My eyes, not my feet, traced the path of her westward past. A forecast for incoming waves of snow will clear the canvas for the next travelers coming this way.


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