it's snowing here in brooklyn, quite early in the season (technically it's not even winter yet) but it's still delightful. i left work a tad early to hop the 722 train to long island, and went to my parents' house. my father got pizza, calzone, and a salad, and we ate it, and then decorated the tree while the wonderful black and white edition of miracle on 34th street played. we got the tree decorated pretty fast, and it was beautiul. multi-colored lights, my fave, with such beautiful ornaments. i love my parents' tree.
i announced my intention to return to brooklyn and my father seemed disappointed in the car ride to the train. "i was waiting for the snow to come down harder, so we could take a walk." all at once i felt terrible and almost asked him to turn the car around, but i really wanted to get back here; i have heaps of things to do, and wanted to get a decent night of sleep. i thought how nice it would be, it's so pretty, especially with all of the christmas lights lit up in the snow; so beautiful.
getting back to brooklyn, the snow wasn't as heavy, and it wasn't sticking; whereas there is grass in long island, we have cement in the city. it seemed ugly almost, and i felt depressed, imagining myself drinking chammomile tea after a hearty walk with my dad. instead, i'm where the snow isn't as lovely, in my long nightgown, readying myself for bed.