Up and Down

A year ago Monday was Munich, snow-covered, gearing up for Fasching. It was a day for hot chocolate and cream-filled donuts and visiting the summer palace. This photo is part of the I Will Remember This As the Winter Palace series. Today resembled a year ago: the snow stretched into the distance, seemingly without end. Instead of a palace, there was a history classroom. A year ago today, I was on vacation.

Friday was a bust-out-your-nice-shoes-you-protect-from-inclement-weather sort of day, but a walk-in-the-street-because-these-puddles-are-too-deep one as well. It was a day to stop by the Pastry Peddler and buy pain au chocolat or a cinnamon roll and walk down the street with your coat open. A day to stop across the street from your destination, even though you're running late, and take a picture of the sunlight reflecting on the buildings, even if it does look a little Eastern Bloc.

Saturday was opening the barking front door to a peeling paint, brick house, to be greeted by sniffs and licks and the perennial smile of the puppy you picked out at the zoo almost eight years ago. The queen of the house slept on the kitchen table in a little sun-pond, while the aloe and African violets lay uncomfortably on their sides. Saturday was opening the back door of the house onto a greenhouse of old wood, tools, a table used for candlelit summer dinners and an aging cat chirruping his hello from his sunny perch. Driving along the lake; next to the joggers and the walkers, the snow was melting on the lawns. The water was calm, but there were still piles of jagged ice along the shore.

Sunday was shopping malls and empty storefronts. Bumpy roads, glare on expressway exit signs. Racing the unbeatable lights back to the expressway past dirty old houses, cars, grass. Friendly people. Later, new snow.

Monday was slipping to school. My boots have flat soles. Slip, slip, slip. Why bother. Monday night, the crows surrounded our house. Again.