Tm New!: Snowfur

I’ve started calling it .

It is the reminder that even in the dead, dark season, there is softness. There is tenderness. There is a chance to stand outside in your pajamas at 5:00 AM and feel like the last person on earth, wrapped in a blanket made of stars and ice.

She handed me a mug of hot cocoa that was mostly marshmallows. We didn’t speak. We just watched the Snowfur™ erase the driveway, the rose bushes, the tire tracks from yesterday’s hurry. snowfur tm

This is the other snow.

Three months from now, when you are stuck in traffic in a humid April rain, you will close your eyes for half a second. You will remember the sound of nothing. You will remember the weight of a silent sky. I’ve started calling it

Step outside. Let it land on your eyelashes.

Snowfur™ is a metaphysical event. It happens when the universe decides you need a break. It happens on days when you’ve turned in a difficult project, or when you’ve finally decided to let go of a grudge. It happens when the kids are miraculously getting along, building a fort in the living room, and you sneak out to the back deck just to feel the cold on your face. There is a chance to stand outside in

My mother woke me up at 5:00 AM—not for school, but because the power had gone out and she wanted me to see the “silver light.” We stood on the front porch in our flannel pajamas. The entire cul-de-sac was transformed. The street, usually a scar of black asphalt, had become a river of milk.