One Winter Day

One winter day a few years ago, it rained very hard for very long. That night, the temperature dropped to around 30 degrees, uncommonly cold for Austin. In the morning, the entire city was coated in a thin layer of ice. Every last car, road sign, hand rail, tree, and blade of grass was glistening, as though glazed by a meticulous potter. Little icicles clung to every overhang.

My roommates and I were well acquainted with snowy and icy weather, but we were nevertheless awestruck by this winter wonderland that had replaced our familiar neighborhood. The fact this was happening in the hot state of Texas made it special and unique.

Our university courses were cancelled for the day (and would be for several days after), so we set out to explore our new surroundings. We pried the ice off my car in sheets and went for a drive around town. Many trees had fallen in the streets, and some traffic lights were off completely. But it hardly mattered, as you could count on one hand the number of cars on the road. Even fewer were the pedestrians.

We stopped for a late brunch at Waffle House which, unlike the rest of the world, still had some people in it. Over coffee and eggs we reminisced about former friends and old roommates. The stresses of unopened emails, due dates, and lengthy to-do lists did not enter my mind that day, for those were problems of the old world. Eventually that old world returned, and along with it the old birds, old buses, old people, and old trees. But I have never forgotten that strange new world that visited us that one winter day.