Day 137: Crunch
Breathe in deep.
Breathe in the ozone.
It’s a lot warmer than you thought it’d be.
It’s a lot more humid, too.
But the wind still blows something bitter.
But the bitter wind is also crisp.
There’s still snow falling lightly.
There’s reasons to believe that it’s just snow falling from rooftops.
The person in the window can assure you that it’s brand new snow.
The person in the window thinks you’re crazy for being out there.
The sounds of the streets are still there, but somewhat muted.
The sounds of the streets don’t have time to quit.
Dig your hands deep into your pockets and think warm thoughts.
Dig your neck deeper into your collar, you should’ve worn a scarf.
Step into a fresh bank of snow to avoid running into other pedestrians.
Step into a fresh bank of snow and appreciate how much dirt it washes off your shoes.
The crunch that it makes is sincerely satisfying.
The crunch reminds you of something you can’t put your finger on.
You remember crunching in the snow one night, in the pitch dark, all alone, only a cigarette ember to guide your way, not knowing what’s ahead of you, what’s behind you or whether or not you even care but one thing you do know is that home is oh so far away.
You remember crunching in the snow as a kid, throwing a football to yourself, pretending to be some sort of big shot.
The sound can bring back many emotions.
The sound can bring you back to earth.
It reminds you that you’re not the only one crunching.
It reminds you that even if you’re by yourself, there’s still somebody out there doing the same thing at the same time.
The possibilities are endless.
The possibilities are also finite.
You should crunch faster, there’s other things to be done and a world to see, even if it’s covered in a muted blanket of misery.
You should crunch faster, you’re running late for work.