It didn’t matter if the alarm went off or not, the cat was in my face with one claw up my left nostril. The alarm would go off at 3:00 a.m. and he knew it. It was 2:57, close enough. He knew he’d get extra cream this morning, he didn’t know why, and he didn’t know when he’d get more either. I had stuff to do and would forget his sorry cat self as soon as I could.
The house was quiet, like it always was at three in the morning. The fresh six inches of snow on the rooftop cocooned any noise inside or out. Would the airport be open? What about the roads? Would people come? Was this the kind of snow that walked in beauty like the night, then blew a kiss over her shoulder as she walked hand in hand with the sunshine disappearing behind her while they walked home? Maybe this bit of storm might hang out for a while and cause trouble like bullies on the playground. It could be one of those squalls that push and shove cars on the interstates, toss trees across power lines for days, and knock planes out of the sky.
People promised to come. They promised to fly or to drive to this spot of the universe from the west and the north and now there were blankets of snow covering too much of the world, including this spot. This was a deal breaker.
The coffee was done.
I turned on the light in the back of the house and walked out on the porch. Ten inches of snow covered the backyard. There were no squirrel prints, only tufts of snowballs that had fallen from high branches to the ground beneath them.
A deer ran past the fence, snow fell from its hooves, and the cat sat in the window and watched. At least there would be no school.
Devonne Brown 
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