Winter Moment
By Jaime Ertel, 3/02

     Outside, the wind was screaming like an army of angry ghosts, never pausing for even a breath. Snow had been falling for over four days - accumulating to over fifteen inches of thick, frozen slush. The temperature had dropped to below zero, with icy winds raging at our windows.
     Seven candles flickered from around the room, casting a vigorous ballet of shadows on every wall. I watched as wax from the Vanilla Cinnamon votive in front of me trickled over the edge of the porcelain Japanese plate, lazily making its way across our glass coffee table.
     Technology was asleep. For once, the television screen was black, silent. Light bulbs had all gone cold. Uncomfortable in the stillness, the kitties lay on a finished game of Scrabble at our feet, all four ears twitching to the howling of the wind. We hadn't had any electricity for almost six hours.
     "What time is it?" my boyfriend murmured from the other couch. I got up from where I was sitting and squeezed onto the couch alongside him.
     "I don't know, sweetie. The power's still out."
     "Ahhhh." He opened his eyes and grinned at me.
     Any stress on our minds had been absorbed through the windows, leaving nothing to think about but our cozy predicament. The shrill song of the arctic wind had melted into background noise, beneath our restful breathing. Outside, the descending snow looked like a great explosion of soft, white clouds, each piece cascading gently down, bringing with it a sense of perspective: he and I bundled beneath gray fleece, one man and one woman sharing a peaceful moment of winter.

This was originally written for the "Thinking Outside The Box " collaboration project.