In a Winter Daze

I stepped outside onto the front porch, seeping in a breath of the crisp cool air.  A fresh coat of powdered snow covered the ground.  I slipped my sock covered feet into my sister’s old boots and buttoned up my thick wool coat, ready to take the trek up to town. 

I walked the old dirt road, the brisk wind flushing my cheeks.  The sky was beautiful this time of day.  A variety of pinks and blues interceding to create a masterpiece of pastel perfection; the gentle moon its ideal centerpiece.      

I walked into the town.  Three young boys were having a snowball fight in the middle of the road, and as cars came by they hurriedly stepped to the side.  Then back at it they went.  I walked into the coffee shop and waved to the man who sat at the same table against the window every single morning.  His gray hair neatly combed back, his spectacles resting on the edge of his nose, and the daily newspaper grasped between his two firm hands, worn with age.

I took a seat at the bar and ordered a cinnamon latte, a specialty this time of year.  Outside the frosted window, I spotted little Tommy walking his hound dog across the street, dodging the other boy’s snowballs.        

January is a serene month.  Its brisk winds and harsh snows a cruelty to mankind, yet its invigoratingly fresh start makes you flit with joy.  It brings its challenges, but more so it brings its vigor.  Looking around, bittersweet nostalgia floods my mind. But there’s also the sensational feeling of what to expect in the future.  What might this year hold?  There’s so much familiarity as I recognize the regular sights that refresh me daily, as I ease back into my winter daze.