I generally avoid shouting at the sky and shaking my fist in a “why me” kind of way, but I have to tell you, I am rather tempted this morning.
We finally got the truck back from the shop yesterday, and this morning, we woke up with no water for, well, no apparent reason. I’m really crossing my fingers that we are not the only ones with this problem, that this is a neighborhood-wise problem, because then there will (I assume) be someone coming to fix it.
It’s incredibly cold this morning, and when I go outside to start the car, everything is covered with a layer of frost. The kid, convinced that everything we have told her about it not snowing here is a lie, just looks at me when I tell her it is just frost. She gives me this knowing look that says, “You can say whatever you want, Mom, I know the truth.”
Rather then explain to her, once again, about dew and frost and such, I let her have her dream of snow fairies for now.
She marvels at the frost on her window, and at one point turns to me and says, “Every snowflake is different, but these two? These two are the same.”
You are more right than you realize, kid.
The world is blanketed in ice on the way to drop her off, I find my mind wandering, taking pictures in my head. Of the tree, frozen against a blue sky, of the mist coming off of the pond there, of the dog walking alone along the frozen path. I want to just wander around with the camera, in a silent world made up of only images.
By the time I am home, its already starting to melt, and with it, go the feelings.
I find myself looking for the water truck, not for the perfect shot. I am driving slowly past the neighbors, trying to see if anyone is about so I can ask them if they have working facilities, because I really have to use them.
The spell is broken.
Still, I go out back, and try to snap a few pictures of the melting frost on the grass while I am checking for gushing water, signs that a pipe has burst because of the cold.
But what I end up with instead, is this: