The day had started gray and frigid, the air crisp and still, and the foreboding. It is was Saturday, and the kids were off to a friend's house for a play date. At first, I was concerned about the weather, but their persistent prodding forced me to say yes and I drove them across town. A little quiet time after such a tense week would do me some good too.
On my way back home, the snow started to fall heavily, covering the ground completely after just a few minutes. As I pulled into my driveway, my cell phone rang. It was the mother of the friend whose house I had just left my kids. She invited my kids stay over so I wouldn't have to venture back in the snow. They, of course, jumped at the opportunity.
Feeling free and being a lover of snowy days, I sat on the front porch and soaked in the peaceful atmosphere. The heavy snow deadened the sounds of the world, enhancing the soft sounds of flakes falling and the wind blowing. After a short while, several inches had blanketed the area. A lone car ventured down the road, swerving and skidding, the sounds disturbing my serene setting. As I watched, the car spun out and wound up stuck on my lawn. I ran over to see if I could help.
Wendy lived a few blocks away. She was a single mother who I had met several times at school functions and soccer games. We were cordial but only casual acquaintances. When I got to the door of the car, Wendy was more pissed than she was hurt. The wheels of the car were stuck and spun freely and she was upset. I offered to help and ran to get some shovels. Within a few minutes of digging, we had made some progress when a large plough came barreling down the street throwing a huge blanket of snow to its side. Before we could react, the plough had covered us with wet snow. We were a sorry sight. We looked at each other and laughed.
I invented Wendy into the house to dry off and share a hot drink. The house was warm and we immediately stripped off our coats, hats, and boots and sat down at the kitchen table for some hot cocoa. As we sat and talked, I studied Wendy's features. She was short, medium build with small breasts and a bit round in the hips. Her eyes were a dazzling blue, both kind and knowing. In her late thirties and divorced, Wendy was a dedicated mom, caring more for her kids than herself. Yet there were signs that she was something more.
As we chatted, she began to shiver. We were enjoying each other's company so much that we forgot that we were wet and cold. I offered to throw her clothes in the drier and give her something to wear in the meantime. At first she declined, but at my insistence, she accepted. I went to the bedroom to get some sweatpants and sweatshirts, but then I saw the robes. They were thick, soft terry cloth, a present from my sister. I stripped off my wet clothes and put on a robe, tying it at the waist.
