it’s the first day of february
and holy cow it’s cold
as the snow falls angry
(like it has something to prove)
i think about the first winter with her underground
when a biological need to keep her warm
kept me insane
and i would drive in blizzards
to shovel around her grave
(i could never keep up though–
more snow always fell)
the urge to rescue her from the frozen world
still keeps me up at night
but these days i am up at night with george anyways
(the baby i get to keep warm)
today i can wait until the storm has passed
to go collect her wreath and flowers and stuffed animals
and whatever else has blown away
and although winter is her season
and snowflakes are her calling card
it is not without it’s irony and pain,
it’s hypotheticals and bitterness
i think it is too cold to be outside right now
but the big boys have insisted on a snowman–
i look out my window at their bundled bodies
shrieking in delight and joy
and i consider for a minute
that perhaps she is playing, too,
in a game that she will teach me
when this earthly snow has melted all away…
