Back then, it seemed like all the big snowstorms came at night. I’d drive to work in the late evening and it would just be starting. A few flakes on the windshield. You could see them in the headlights, too. Flicking around like bugs.
By three or four o’clock there’d be a foot and a half on the ground. Cars in the parking lot completely covered over. I’d sign out and be on the road by six-thirty. Still dark as the ace of spades. Nothing moving. In some spots, I’d make the first set of tracks. The snow made everything quiet, too. It absorbed the sound and there wasn’t nothing making any noise then, anyway. Maybe a train. They was all steam trains back then. Beautiful sounds. That chuggin’, them whistles.
I’d leave the car at the foot of the hill and walk the rest of the way home. Open the door and there would be bacon and eggs frying. Always. We got our eggs from the Bays’s next door then. Do you remember their henhouse? That rooster of theirs? Nobody had even heard of cholesterol back then, and nobody was fat like everybody is now.