A glitter dusting of snow on my lips, on my nose, in my hair.
The muffled sound of the world beneath inches of snow.
Ordinary people doing ordinary things.
Everyone hates it, but I've been waiting for this snow.
I've been waiting for the silence on my skin
the white sky, the scintillating snow prints.
I've been waiting for the snow.
Waiting to whisper Frost's words into the snow-lit night.
Whose woods these are I think I know...
Waiting to wear my knee-length puffy white coat.
Monday December 7th, 2009:
Bodily assigned us an assignment. And I'm actually doing it. Shocking. We're to memorize and recite Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. Maybe it's because it's about winter or maybe because his words can work magic, but I'm determined to succeed. It had been snowing all day, and I mostly stared out the window while she jabbered. I don't like listening to her talk. But I traced over and outlined the words on the paper she handed out. His house is in the village though...
It was still snowing when school let out, I was happy to walk in it though. So when Kam's mom drove up next to me and offered me a ride I was a bit conflicted, but I didn't want to be rude. I hopped inside and chatted with her meanwhile I made up my mind to take a good long walk later.
It was seven o'clock when I emerged from my house clad in my puffy white coat and a scarf. With the blue handout folded into fourths in my pocket I set out on the powder. I turned the paper over in my pocket as I recited the poem to myself. In the other pocket I flipped my phone open again and again, checking the time. I'd left the house at seven. Kam got home from work at six, that I knew. I left the house at seven knowing he'd be at home. I flipped my phone open. It was nearly eight o'clock. I dialed his number and redirected my feet. headed in his direction.
His mother answered, she chatted with me for a minute while she made her way up to Kameron's room to give him the phone. When Kam got on the line he sounded surprised to hear from me on a monday night at eight o'clock at night. I asked him if he'd like to take a walk with me. He said he would like that. I told him I was already out and on route to his abode. He asked me where exactly and then said he'd meet me.
I looked at the ground as I walked to keep from hallucinating him. But then I looked up and saw him there at the end of the street, walking toward me, stark in black against the white night. I couldn't have missed him if I'd tried. He smiled a smile that made my fingers twitch. He looked warm with pink cheeks. I asked him about work. He told me. He asked me about school. I told him about the poem. He asked me to recite it for him. When I acquiesced, he stopped walking and turned to face me, looking into my face as I recited it. I stared into the sky, watching the snow fall, letting the words trickle out, worried that if I looked at him I might forget the whole thing.
When I finished I met his gaze, he smiled warmly. I liked the feeling, so I told him I knew another poem. A poem I'd had to learn the year before, a longer poem, a poem I loved. "Let's hear it." he said. But I remembered this was the poem I recited in class and burst into tears halfway through it, finishing the second half in a throaty voice and somewhat ragged breaths. I hoped I wouldn't repeat the incident. I told him we could walk for this one since it was a bit longer.
I surprised myself, calmly speaking words. He listened, I could feel him listening.
We talked some more and walked some more. A while later I checked the time. The clock read 9:50pm. Time to go home. I had steered us back to his house and I stopped at the corner across the street from his house. He stopped and looked at me, sending his question with his face.
"Well, seeing how it's nearly ten o'clock I'll be walking you home." I explained.
He smiled at the ground.
"No," he said looking back up at me, "no, I'll be walking you home."
"Why?" I asked, "We're already outside your house."
"Because," he chuckled, "that's just the way it goes."
So he walked me home.
Just as I was opening the door he asked me if I had Young Women's tomorrow, I did.
"But you can call me, if you want."
"Yes ma'am," he said.
I'd been waiting since then to walk in the snow as it falls.
And now I'll wait a little longer, until he's with me.
And I'll whisper those words to someone other than myself.
I'll whisper them to him.