1:11am. I awaken to the silence of snowy streets.
I open the big sash window in my bedroom to better hear the silence.
The air is fresh and lovely.
I could make a snowball from the ledge outside my window. But I prefer to leave it pristeen. Except where I poked it.
The flakes are falling slowly.
They float up, down, horizontally, moved by gentle gusts of wind.
Then fascinating swirls as the wind between buildings blow.
I have seen big swirls, almost like a two story high ghost floating down the street.
I find myself wishing I knew where my camera battery was, unpacking undone. The snow on the branches of the tree outside my window, the icicles on the streetlamp, but perhaps I am meant to marvel, not fiddle.
There is perhaps 2-3 inches of snow downtown, the streets unplowed.
Very occasional cars, half driving faster than is safe for the conditions.
A very few pedestrians, a drunk couple sporting umbrellas.
As I am enjoying this scene, I get a stark reality check.
A man crosses the street mid-block, right below my window.
The man is wearing a winter coat, with boots, and is carrying a shopping bag.
Once under the shelter of the hotel's canopy, he pauses to dig through his shopping bag, pulling out a big scarf. Glad he has some gear, perhaps picked up from a full or closed shelter nearby.
My eyes swell up with tears and my heart skips a beat. I feel sad, and full of empathy for this presumably homeless man. What a horrible night to be without shelter. How COLD it would be to sit or lie down.
He stands for 5 or 10 minutes, at one point calling to someone across the street (there may be homeless sleeping in the doorways directly below my apartment), but finally moves on.
Now my winter wonderland isn't so magical. Or perhaps it's still magical, but is tempered by how very, very tough this is on the homeless.
I close my window and go back to bed.
Not sure how long it will be until I sleep.
