The Calm before the Misdiagnosed Weather

Sophie awakes to the filtering morning sun slipping through her sheer curtains. Staring at the ceiling, her first streaming thoughts begin to ring in her head, “I wonder how bad it is outside?” she wonders “It must be a winter wonderland outside.” She lingers a little longer lying on her bed, reluctant to face the first winter storm. She picks up her phone from the night table to stroll through her lengthy calendar of to-do-list feeling the weight of heavy snow on her shoulder.

Feeling the weight of heavy snow on her shoulders

“It is time to begin the day,” she whispers to herself. She stands and starts her morning ritual. She goes into the kitchen and prepares a large cup of coffee. The meditative preparation of pouring water, taking a spoonful of grounded, aromatic Haitian coffee, placing the kettle on the heating stovetop, hearing the hissing sound of boiled water and steam. All the while she ponders about the crowded grocery store, the delayed subway trains, the banks closing early, and the unshoveled city street.

She pours the coffee in her favorite cup and walks back to her room. She opens her curtain to let in the light and watch what the snow left behind. “It didn’t snow,” she says with a smile. The morning streets were empty in anticipation of what was supposed to be a stormy winter wonderland. The paved roads and sidewalks were seeping in water and salt, the coffee terraces’ tables and chairs had been stowed away, and all that was left was… quiet. Sophie sat quietly on her window bench, wrapped her fingers around her warm cup of coffee and watched the rising sun rays engulf the city in a moment of silence and stillness in anticipation of a misdiagnosed winter storm.