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Writing Pieces


By November 15, 2019March 29th, 2020One Comment

There is nothing more magical than the moments following a snowfall in a small, country town.

Every unsightly accident, hiccup, crack has been filled with a luxurious, powdery white.

The handrails have an airy frosting of confetti that slips easily to the side as you brush against it.

The sidewalks have the familiar crisscross footprints of a child’s furry Ugg boots.

The eaves of the old buildings hang low with a newly lain white roof, kindly covering the chipped paint of the store letters below.

It is as if a white cashmere throw has been billowed up, now settling on the town as a whole.  Covering us all.  Inviting us to tuck in close.  And not be aware of the confusion below.

We are, for this moment, encased in a world of unsullied purity.  Safe.  Unaware.

Reality has no place here.

The first snowfall
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