He’d heard the scraping of plows in the wee hours of the morning and incorporated the sound into his dreams, but as he pulled himself from slumber and opened his eyes to the sight of the startlingly bright winter sun streaming in the window, he knew what he’d heard was real, and he experienced the same feeling he used to have as a kid when he learned that school had been cancelled and a whole day of freedom stretched before him. A fresh powdery blanket was covering the yard, and piles of snow lined the edges of the street where the plows had pushed it. He could tell that the snow was already starting to melt because it glistened icily on the branches of the trees, and every few seconds drops fell and widened the dents that had formed on the ground underneath. He surveyed the beautiful scene and was surprised to realize that in spite of everything he’d been through, he actually felt happy, light. Of course it flew in the face of everything he knew he was supposed to feel.
