Winter Sky

When the first snowflake floats gingerly to the ground, it is regarded with awe. After the fifth snowflake, the sense of awe passes and is replaced with sheer panic. There is ice falling from the sky. All at once, as though on cue, lumbering trucks fill the parking lot. Brave men trudge through the tender flakes entering the grocery store with scowls upon their face. Their mission is clear; they are there to retrieve the essential items required for their family’s survival during this flurry of snowfall. Baskets overflowing with cans of soup, bundles of firewood and cases of beer are rushed to the check stands with a grave sense of urgency. One can never be too prepared. Conversation is bleak. Youthful baggers too young to comprehend the full gravity of such weather conditions utter nervous interjections trying to enliven the anxious customers. Despite these futile attempts, the seriousness of the weather weighs heavily on the minds of all. This is no time for small talk. Slowly the vehicles filter out, embarking cautiously on the treacherous journey back home. The shelves reflect the calamitous situation. Items lay strewn recklessly upon the near empty shelves. Tattered remnants of the overlooked, dented cans of corn and crushed boxes of pasta destined to remain orphaned upon the lonesome reduced rack. Outside, the glistening snow has disappeared, swept away by heavy drops of rain. How fickle the winter sky can be, always teasing and taunting our shaky sense of security.