Through the Glass Backwards: Snowflakes in the Lamplight

gas station snow“Oh crap,” I said, passing the turn I needed to take to go to the gas station. I just wanted to get home. But, when you drive more than 200 miles in five days, it’s a good idea to not get too low.

There were snowflakes coming down like spitballs, splat splat splat on the windshield. The road was shining, just washed pavement.

While we were navigating the traffic home, talking and focusing on not being hit or hitting someone else, we were so close to home. But, I sighed deeply and kept going. I pulled into the station and started pumping gas.

Deep breath in, the crispness of the air mingled with the chill of snow in the air.

The snowflakes came down of their own accord; they didn’t try to be another snowflake. They didn’t try to speed up or slow down. While the traffic and the din of city living was all around, I noticed the snowflakes as they passed in front of the lamplight. I noticed the swoosh of tires on wet roads, the sirens screaming to move out of the way.

I was reminded to be in the moment. Right then. Right there.

Nothing to change.


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