I prefer rising early. Pop has ingrained the benefits of staring your day early, as well as the fear that the day can get away from you. I step into the shower and feel the warmth of the running water on my skin. Lathering my hair, I can’t help but hear the howling wind outside and the rattling of my old house in resistance. I begin dreading the end of my shower before my hair is even rinsed. I’m too familiar with the rush of air when the shower curtain is pulled aside that chills my wet skin. Just dry off fast, I tell myself. Grab the fleece bathrobe. Tie it up tight.
I can hear the coffeemaker reach the final sputtering stretch as I enter my bedroom to snatch the pink Revlon hairdryer. The view outside stops me as I reach for the boar bristle brush on the dresser. I watch the tree limbs sway like outstretched arms performing a ceremonial dance. The force of the wind lifts the snow and tosses it momentarily before sending it spiraling back to the frozen ground erasing the footprints of the previous week.