Monday, December 26, 2011
Bare trees wave in the wind, casting moving shadows on the brown grass below. A warm Winter has taken precedence over a white Christmas this year and I venture out into the Minnesota air without a hat or mittens. It's good weather to show off a city known far and wide as just shy of tundra, but I still miss the sparkling blanket of white that covers the branches of the trees that line the streets and yards just lightly enough for little white lights to shine through.
It's December twenty sixth, one of the saddest days of the year. Caribou has stored away its Christmas music, a cheery marquee of chestnuts roasting, wish lists for Santa baby and days that are merry and bright. Fortunately, my decaf skim latte still comes in a white cup with red and green stripes patterned with pine trees and snowflakes reminiscent of old, home-knit sweaters.
Each time the ceiling vent blows, the coffee shop's door is thrown open, swinging all the way back to the end of its hinges and letting in a gust of cold air that negates the heat that first set it off.
At 11am, the sun is shining and so am I, filled with hope, faith and determination. I will succeed.