It sounds like a morose, indie-core song title, but there really is snow on our wedding site. About an inch. It looks really beautiful. Ida and I stood in the middle of it the other night and remembered how lovely it was. Then she hucked a snowball at me.
Like fire, however, snow in Seattle is a double-edged blade cut from the same coin: Silent. Beautiful. Deadly. Like a mermaid. Or maybe a mute hyena.
Of all the car wrecks I passed on the icy road last night (about 4,000), the strangest was the car that had hit the guard rail, spun around and sat in the middle of the highway surrounded by a swath of white plastic forks. A crappy, unoccupied red sedan with a smashed front end that seemed to have hemorrhaged an entire bag of white plastic flatware. It looked like the strangest site-specific art installation I'd ever seen (maybe it was. Snow makes people more creative. I mean, doesn't it?)
Then I returned the rental car to the airport and couldn't catch a cab back home for 3 hours. And even then, I had to jump over a retaining wall and sprint down the baggage claim drive to beat out 50 other people for the one driver that was taking fares. The look on that old lady in the wheelchair's face was priceless.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...
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