It Snowed In Boston Today

The sidewalk in front of my house had probably about an inch of light powdery snow by the time I walked over it.

It's cold and will be cold for sometime. Six more hours or so of snow was still on it's way. The forecast said it would probably stop at about midnight. The snow wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon after it would stop.

I opened the side door to my house to get a look at about 11:45PM. I couldn't see anymore falling on top of the inch and a half that coated my stairs. I then checked the local interactive weather map on intellicast.com. The radar showed that possibly there would be no more snow at night.

I leaned back in my chair and thought about saying, "I hate snow," but I didn't. First because it isn't really true, I don't hate snow, I hate what snow often causes. Second because I know someone who misses snow.

So, I said, "Fine. So you don't hate snow. What are you going to do about it?" I wanted to leave it for the morning and worry about it then but I knew I wouldn't be willing to rise early and take care of it and I'm going to work two jobs tomorrow so it wouldn't be until tomorrow night until I could take care of it. I wanted just to leave it alone, which would mean snow on my walkway for days.

Then I heard a voice from within my head say, "There was a time when you would do it tonight."

I want to say that I hate that voice but I don't. I only hate some of the things that voice says. That voice usually gives the proper bearing, a bearing usually opposite to where I face.

I like to think that the Timmy of old is still in there somewhere. Somewhere beneath all the bullshit attitude, I've been storing in my soul. The Timmy of legend. The Timmy whose tale when told by those who knew him tear up a little at his generosity, even though they are standing in the middle of a Christmas party.

I always down play the legend.

I can understand why some folks hated the legendary Timmy.

I want to ask, "Are you down there?" but I don't. I usually don't ask questions when some of the possible answers are things I probably don't want to hear. I inwardly say, "I wish you were here."

The voice says, "I thought you were trying to stop putting things off?"

I reply, "Yeah, that's a goal." I then got up and dressed for the weather.

I finished in about forty five minutes and then checked my email.

I read the new message; the inner voice says, "Sometimes she talks about you like you are him."

I don't say anything to the voice but I think, "I'm trying."

I notice that her subject/title line is the same as the last words in the email.

It snowed in Boston today.

dreams and homicide

I finished my task and was about to leave. We were in very close proximity. I moved a little closer, close enough to make my intention known. I half expected her to move ever so slightly away but she didn't. I tilted my head slightly to my right and moved closer still, our lips were almost touching.

I wondered what my breathe was like but figured it was too late to back out now. My plan was to kiss she and wait to see her response and then go from there. I gave her a slightly firm kiss and waited, or tried to wait but she replied with a firmer kiss that pulled at my top lip when she broke it. I really didn't have a next step in place if she hadn't returned the kiss so I gave a slight smile in relief before we kissed again.

After the third kiss, I lowered my head, moving my lips away from hers. I knew that no amount of kissing was going to satisfy my desire and I thought reaching for more was too much to ask.

Then I heard, "But it's just a dream. You're allowed to go further. You are allowed to go as far as you want. You are expected not to limit your dreams." The voice in my head was right. It was just a dream and I knew it but I could feel her breathe on my face, I could feel her lips slight tug on mine, I could taste her kiss. Continuing the dream was an option, I could still feel her waiting presence; sometimes I can direct my dreams and the 'camera' was still rolling.

I ended up rolling over which was like as if the electric cord was wrapped around me and my rolling pulled the plug right from the wall. The dream ending in the fading light.

That voice that was in my head just throw up his arms in disbelievement and disgust.

I couldn't blame him.