Words In The Snow

When I was nineteen, I was with a man. The urge is to call him a boy now that I am double that age as of Dec 1 this month. But the point is, I was with him and I loved him. I have written about him before.

I didn't start to drive until nineteen. I really had no interest until then and I had a long line of friends and family who were willing to drive me around, so why bother? So, that is where we are. I'm nineteen, I've just started driving, I own a maroon Mercury Lynx and I am driving for the first time in the snow. A big snow.

E and I shared an apartment where the roaches were about as big as my wiener dog and the heat came on so high in the winter that it wasn't unusual to have a snow storm raging and the windows open at the same time. That is where he waited when I made my slow, nerve-wracking drive from the mall where I worked to our home.

I'm surprised, to tell you the truth, that I did not snap the steering wheel in half that night. I remember getting to the top of a very steep hill and then turning around only to have to hold my breath on the way down. There was a wreck and I couldn't pass. I remember my heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of my ears. It didn't help that before I left the mall, every single person who loved me called to tell me that I was to be careful and how bad the roads were. So, finally I got home and he was waiting for me.

The windows were indeed open and I was flustered, cagey and irritable.

"Look out the window," he said.

"If you tell me to look at the snow I'll kill you."

"Look out the window," he repeated.

"I don't care if I ever see snow again. And I love snow!"

"Look out the window, girl."

So I did.

Outside of our window was the courtyard. A large square swath of earth for tenants to use for play or lounging. And top corner to corner it said his name E___. And in the center was a heart with an S next to it. Hearts. And bottom corner to corner was my name. Sommer. So the courtyard read E___ hearts Sommer. He'd made the words meticulously with his booted feet while he passed the time during my drive home. "I had to do something not to worry," he said. And the snow around his words was as white and pristine as snow in the middle of a huge field. Not a foot track, paw print or bird track. No one had bothered it. Most likely the entire building knew of his efforts and went out of their way to stay clear. Because he was that kind of person. Well liked, respected, folks wanted to help him show me how much he loved me. And he did. And I him.

So, see, this is why I still think of him when it rains, and yes...when it snows. If I close my eyes I can see a snowy courtyard in the purple dusk with words in the snow.

XOXO
Sommer