I stepped out my front door into a Brooklyn covered in white. The streets, trees and sidewalks were white washed clean and full of promise. The kind morning sent my favorite music through me headphones and raised my steps a full inch into a skip. I imagined my two dollar bag was a sled and we were bound for the tallest hill the park. As I cut a path through the soft, cold snow I felt as though I was whistling down the slope. I love the snow like a child loves ice cream on the carpet. I was so elated that even the Jamaican woman who evangelizes in the Fulton street stop thought I deserved to be saved. She handed me a prayer pamphlet and a little wink. (She never offers me the literature.)
I won tickets. I won Interpol tickets. I never win. I never win anything I love. I love Interpol and winning so imagine my delight. If I smiled any broader, my smile would literally leap from my face and dance.
What a delightful day.
rhtl update: "Look it stop snowing"
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