I made the [bold] [iffy] [self-indulgent] decision to ride out this next blast of February snow at my parents' house. Sometime after midnight last night I tossed a few bags into the trunk of my car and drove out and up until I was kicking snow off my boots and fumbling around for the spare key hidden out back. I let myself in and kissed the sleeping cat on her furry forehead and slid into the bed in my mom's sewing room. I'll be safe here. My phone buzzed a few hours later. University is closed. I knew it would be. I've spent this morning watching dark-eyed juncos dancing around the birdfeeder by the dining room window. They stand out so well against the snow, the little coal gray birds with the round white bellies. I can't see much further out the window than the birdfeeder. The mountains are all blending into the sky and it's all the strange white of snow.
The good of this is: mom and dad and sister and pets and soft brown couch, among other things. The bad of it all is, well, I packed in a hurry and didn't bring some things along. I mean there are little things I missed, like my vitamins. And there's a big thing. My boyfriend.
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