In D.C.

Snow, more snow, in drifts and swirls, a million armfuls tossed from a million rooftops. The next morning we watched from the sixth floor window as a woman and two kids, bundled to the hilt, cleared off their car in the parking lot. I didn’t realize at first that they were using kitchen implements to de-snow this car. I thought, you know, they had three snow brushes. But I couldn’t stop watching the little girl in the yellow coat and pink hat. She must’ve been three or four, and she kept flinging the snow from the hood of the car onto her head. Still she kept swinging her de-snowing implement, which I soon realized was a spatula. Swing, fling, swing, fling. Her little brother had another spatula, and so did the mom. They chipped away at it.

The little girl kept falling over, getting stuck in the snow, wandering distractedly over to the neighboring snow-capped car and taking a few jabs at that one. Finally she just gave up and flopped backwards into the snow, swooshing her arms and legs to make an angel. She’d chosen a spot that was already trafficked in footprints, and I can only imagine that she stood up looking for the perfect imprint of her angel and just saw a muddle. But pretty soon the whole family trekked out to the clean part of the snow and I stopped watching but I hope they made more.

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