"When the Snow Falls"

First snow of the season—where even the benches wait, and the city hall clock forgets the hour.

November Snow in New York
It wasn’t the first snow I’ve seen this year—but the first November flurry in New York for the season. The city transformed in a breath. A chill swept through the streets, and suddenly, New York felt as cold as Peekskill. I wasn’t dressed for it. No layers. No armor. Just me, caught in the wind on yet a busy street in New York, grateful to return to warmth, to the quiet sanctuary of home in Peekskill.

Dancing Flurries
Outside my window, snow flurries danced across the balcony—light, swirling, almost joyful. But they never settled. Just twirled and vanished. Transient beauty. A reminder that not everything is meant to stay.

Reflections on Time
Last night left me unsettled. I’m no longer a spring chicken. The bounce-back days are behind me. There’s still so much I want to do—but time slips faster now, like snow melting on warm skin.

The Inevitable Journey
Aging brings clarity. We’re all headed to that final destination—the one with no return ticket, no reviews, no room service. It’s sobering. But it makes the small things sacred:
the warmth of a blanket, the hush of snow, the flicker of memory.

Looking Forward
Despite the cold, despite the ache, I choose to find beauty in the passing moments. Whether the snow sticks or dances away, I’ll keep watching. Keep writing. Keep living. Because even the coldest days carry the possibility of grace.