By Keith Liggett

I wake. Nothing changed since I went to bed at 11 the night before. Snow falls heavy backlit by the streetlight across the street. Simply more. Snow, nothing but snow. The phone lines are stacked a few inches high. Only the top half the wheels are visible on Dave’s car parked under the streetlight. Simply more.

I lie still in bed. Still. Watching the snow fall straight down against the streetlight.

How much?

A couple inches sit on the phone lines. The same on the rail of my deck, which is under cover. Dave’s car is without shape and the wheels are half buried, so that’s a foot. And the Griz showed 20 cm over the day yesterday before they cleared it in the afternoon.

I lie still in bed. Watching.

After a bit, I slide out, pull on a pair of jeans, toss on a t-shirt and start downstairs to make coffee. My cat wanks and I make a detour to feed her and then head down the stairs.

When I open the container, the smell of the dark beans fills the kitchen, even before they are ground.

The coffee burbles through and I stand at the downstairs window watching the snow. Nothing but snow. All snow all the time.

Pouring two mugs I head back upstairs
.
“Hey, here’s coffee, it’s going to be epic.”

We lie in bed watching the snow, drinking coffee and not having to talk.

It’s going to be epic.

At 8:30 after a rudimentary breakfast, we head up.

Only the Triangle is open.

And it’s still epic.

And we have days of this ahead.

Call in sick. Call in well. Don’t call in. Quit you job. Get fired.

It’s epic.

All the rest will pass and heal.

This is mandatory.