It snowed hard last night, my view of this city from 11 floors up lessened by the white glow, even in the darkness. I’m not sure you would call the snowfall unexpected; for days the media chatter predicted an impending doom.
We are now a week into January, so it only seemed natural.
There is a beauty in snow, one that uncovers gentle childhood memories while cloaking the dismal sights of a city flush with societal problems and pain. For a while we can witness a fresh view.
I enjoyed listening to the crunch under my feet as I stepped into the morning chill. Soon the sound of shovels and snow-moving equipment will break the pleasant silence as Toronto’s Sunday traffic picks up its pace.
In a few hours the succulent softness will become grey and slushy and then will be gone. The city will return to its day-to-day familiarity.
Still, for a moment, I enjoyed a little break in the momentum.
01/07/2023 j.g.l.
