I listen for snow even though I know you can't hear flakes falling.
The flurries promised by the meteorologist (the one who smiles too big and let me down last week) will start at 9:00 am. It's 4:47 am. I slide out from under my bulky, down comforter and lift the blinds, nothing.
I crawl back into bed and will the white stuff to appear.
It's the game I play again and again.
This is what happens when a Midwest girl turned Coloradan ends up in the South. I search out qualities reminding me of home. Home isn't my pink house, townhome, apartment, or tiny blue dwelling at the end of a cul-de-sac. Sure, I've lived in all, but as I get older, I see home in things instead of places.
I'm searching for a little bit of home.
Skiing on the Blue Ridge Parkway
Cross your fingers, friends. The schools just cancelled. Bring it.
A crew of us took the challenge to write for five minutes without worrying if it's just right. No lingering on words, no worries about mistakes. This week's prompt: again. Click here to find other word lovers scratching out ideas about the word "again".
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