This memory is strong tonight: A quiet day, so quiet I can hear the coffee brewing in the break room and window glass settling in the building’s framing. It’s snowing; some of the snowflakes are as big as ping pong balls. On my work computer, all of my emails have been categorized and labeled, and I’ve completed a press release. I’m having a rare calm moment when I love being a secretary (but that is probably because the phone is quiet).
This song is playing. Xander is at his daycare and Gary is at his work and I am at my desk and it is snowing. I feel beautiful and warm. Snow from my earlier break is melting off of my boots, pooling water on the carpet. The latte I’ve bought from the coffee hut next door is perfect, and still fairly hot.
Outside, the temperature is hovering around 10 degrees. The snow and ice fog turns the air cloudy and blue, and when I walk to the library at lunch, my headphones small and cold inside my ears, the only sound (aside from the music playing in my ears) is that of my feet padding the snow and the ravens calling in the trees above my head.
I took it all for granted. Well, most of it. Some of it.
Also – If you like southern writing, my friend Ray has the new issue of 2nd and Church Literary Magazine up. Gary has a photo featured. My two short pieces on Knoxville’s literary history and literary community will be in the next issue. Here is the link to the issue…