Snowpocalypse
I was just thinking about this time last year.
The druid and I had been going out for a month and a half, and we were so sickeningly into each other that others averted their eyes when we hugged. We were desperate for time together, and the dynamics of his household meant that the only time he could give me, he had to share with work. I loitered at his work as he slaved away overnight at his gas station, way too often to be subtle about what I wanted.
By last December, we had settled into a routine that made us both very happy–I spent my time with him, he had someone to encourage him and comfort him when customers and corporate got to him. He’d become used to seeing me there, and even preferred when I was present. I’d bring a book, or a music player, or dink around online on my phone at the time, happy to amuse myself when he was not able to spare attention from his work.
When he was, though, oh man, it was on. I’d often pull up a couple tote crates from the back room, we’d sit shoulder to shoulder, his hand around mine, and we’d just talk. The nights went so quickly, he’d return to his household, and I’d return home via bus, and we’d both sleep very well.
I think it was because of these loiter-y nights that he started visiting my home once a week, wanting time with me that was not split so abruptly by customers needing things. He’d made three visits to my abode thus far, and we were anticipating a fourth, when the snow arrived.
The roommate and I watched amusedly as the blizzard descended upon us, quickly rendering the streets undriveable. It snowed continually that day and the next, until there was nearly two feet on the ground, unusual for this area. The busses tried valiantly to push through, and then stopped when the impacted snow and ice made it very dangerous to drive. The whole city shut down, vehicles unusable, people reduced to skies or tromping through the very thick snowbanks covering the sidewalk to get anywhere. Because the nearest grocery store was two miles away, we had to make due with what was in the fridge. We had enough, as I’d made a special trip just as it started to make sure we had basics. We had a lot of grilled cheese sandwiches in that time period, if I recall.
Because the busses weren’t running, I wasn’t able to go to the druid’s workplace to spend another night with him, nor could he visit me on his meager days off. We talked by phone daily, as had become our practice, but we yearned for time together. The snow remained for 2.5 weeks after it had first started falling, thick drifts untouched by a sun too low in the sky to warm the area enough to melt the stuff.
I remember angsting about the snow that remained. Though the busses started tentatively running on reduced schedules upwards of a week after the original event, I didn’t have proper footgear, and day after day I had to remain at the apartment while the roommate, who is as well-stocked with shoes as some women are about underwear, had boots suitable to tromp through the snow, her feet still protected. At one point, she offered me the use of a borrowed pair of calf-high Doc Martens, to which I gleefully put them on (pants tucked inside because I’m gouache like that), and immediately made it my mission to get to the druid’s workplace before Christmas. As it happens, the bus I needed to take didn’t function until Christmas Day.
I spent the entirety of Christmas Night in his company. It was cold, and quiet, and we loved the hell out of it. Though we were stuck at his station, it was as if we were the only two people in town awake on this magical night, aside from the random customer and a couple taxi-driving buddies of his.
This year, we view the possible year-end snowpocalypse with glee. The snow may pile up, the busses may not run, we may have to be careful rationing the food we have in the house, he might not be able to get to work and I may not be able to leave my home, but we live in the same place now. We want for nothing when we have each other.
Yup, still sickening.
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Challenge yourself to Holidailies 2009 by writing one entry each day in December.
