On A Wintry Day

His eyes opened to see the usual beige ceiling staring back at him, boring, devoid of life and cold. His hand moved instinctively to the other side of the bed only to find it empty ; his fingers grazing against the cold bed sheets. He sighed and then glanced over at the clock- it was 7am. He heaved himself out of the bed, and trudged barefoot across the wooden floor into the living room. He had grown accustomed to the cold floor and the numbness of his toes but today it stung. So he put on a worn out pair of flip flops; the rubber soles squelching whenever they met the wooden floor. Switching on the TV he slumped into the sofa. The News Headlines read :" Two Feet of Snow Drapes City in White, Most Schools and Offices Closed". With a low grunt he got off the sofa to brew himself a cup of coffee. 'Off Day' was the one thing Matthew hated the most. When not sleeping he preferred to spend the time by working at the car repair shop or doing odd jobs like delivering food or bartending at local pubs . He buries himself in work- can't let the memories come flooding back....especially after the accident. 

While sipping the hot coffee he watched the falling snow outside. The white feathered crystals tumbled down from the heavens dancing in the wintry sun, their motion ever so chaotic but also somehow choreographed. Anna loved the snow. She could find a hidden poetry in the motion of the falling snow, but then again Matthew always said that she romanticized everything. Nevertheless, that is what made him fall for her in the first place. When his breath rose as neat and pure as vapour and froze on the window pane, he could not help but think of her. After so many days he let his mind return to Anna. Like a wild animal released back into its familiar habitat runs to freedom, his mind ran...ran to Anna and to all her memories.

 He dusted off the photo album that had been till this day stuck in some dark corner of some cabinet. As he flipped through the pages a slow smile worked its way across his face and into his eyes...for the first time in a long time. Today the flashing lights and the deafening crash were not the things that came to his mind when he thought of her. Oh how dearly he missed her! Though the sunlight couldn't reach him inside, he could feel a warmth ...the warmth of Anna's love. Hugging the album tightly Matthew leaned back into the sofa, a solitary tear rolling down his cheek. 

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In the last house along the Wayward Avenue it was a different picture altogether. Sitting by the center table was Mr. Andrews, his brows furrowed and his face burried in previous day's paper. It was a small brick house; small for 3 kids and 2 adults at least. So a snow day meant all members of the family present inside together at all times. It was on days like these that Mr. Andrews was reminded how hard it was to be a father of three. Such was the ruckus inside that red brick house that he couldn't even read a single line without grunting twice; once for the disturbance caused by the kids bickering and shouting and once again for having lost track of the line he was at. And as if the kids weren't enough, soon the missus chimed in too to instruct and nag about various unattended household chores. 

While the two older kids chased each other throughout the house making the rooms and it's furniture short of an obstacle course, the little one who had just learned how to walk lay crying in his cot. By this point Mr. Andrews was no longer trying to read the paper but rather hiding his face behind it. No this wasn't any midlife crisis and Mr. Andrews certainly wasn't unhappy in his marriage, it was just that he was tired of it all. Deep down he knew that what he felt was wrong and was ashamed of himself. But Mr. Andrews was under a lot of pressure in work and this was not the way he had imagined spending his day off- amidst chaos. 

As the day grew old and the sun started it's journey through the heavens nearing the zenith, the snow ceased to fall. The kids now played outside in the snow, their bright coloured woolens a stark constrast from the white background. Mr.Andrews was no longer in a displeased state of mind. As the children played outside, he realized how much he missed being a child himself: happy and carefree, playing in the snow. He remembers how making snow angels was his favourite thing to do and how he could never make his snowmen to stand erect. All this time he was feeling cold and bitter inside and had forgotten the warmth that family brings, but now reliving his childhood through the eyes of his children put a contented beautiful smile on his face. 

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A few blocks away, Wendy snuggled under a warm blanket while resting on the sofa with her legs extended towards the crackling warm fire in the fireplace. She wiggled her toes, as if to let the warmth reach the areas in between individual toes. On the table by her side was a cup of hot cocoa; the whole room was filled with its aroma. In between sipping at the mug and wiggling her toes, Wendy pet Bruno with her mittened hands. It seemed Bruno too was enjoying the unexpected holiday, as he lay there curled up on the discolored yet soft carpet near the leg of the sofa. Lately school has been hectic, with pending assignments, impending quizzes and deadlines for community project. Though she was a diligent student, all these were too much even for Wendy. Sophomore Year was not at all what she had expected it to be. So getting a day off due to the entire city being covered in snow was a pleasant surprise. 

However, well after finishing her hot drink and fidgeting with her phone, Wendy found herself short of ideas for things to do. With her parents being out of town she had the house to herself and Bruno. She went around the house looking for things to do but found nothing exciting. Even the lazy mutt was no fun. Had it been a couple of years back Wendy would have jumped at the idea of reading a novel on a cold winter day, but now it seemed like too much work. Desperate for easy gratification, Wendy decided to snack on some candy canes left over from the holiday season. While looking for the box of the crunchy sweet, she stumbled upon her mom's cookbook. Usually she wouldn't even care to look inside but she was so bored that she casually started leafing through it's pages until she found something that caught her eye.

After a gruelling time in the kitchen which seemed to take forever, Wendy came out with a batch of freshly baked brownies. She even used the candy canes as frosting on the little saccharine brown blocks of chocolaty dough. Though they were far from perfect, Wendy felt a weird satisfaction which she had never experienced before. It was as though it gave her confidence and made her feel independent. As she munched down on those sugary delights she felt content and pleased. What she would do next she knew not, maybe she would bake some more or maybe she would try something new. Only the wintry trees that stand as ballet dancers poised to show the world their grace and their proud silvery-brown skin will stand witness to it, as they have been to countless such stories every winter since the first snowflake kissed the earth. 

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