In Time (Stucky)

Snow and pocket watches

December 24, 1967

Steve's POV

     The snow fell gently on the quiet sleeping city. Christmas lights lit up the neighborhood, green and red illuminated the streets. Kids happily dreamed of the fresh snow they were going to wake up too, ginger bread men and Santa bringing them presents. Parents waited and sneaked to eat the cookies, drink the milk, wished it was good enough for their kids while Santa got all the credit. But it was worth it to see their kids faces light up with excitement.

       The snow danced along the lights, each a different pattern. Each so special it was never like the others. I wanted to be snow. I wanted to be beautiful that people stopped and watched me. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted to mean something to someone. I wanted to be like snow and be free as I feel to the hard ground that didn't have any remorse. Maybe once I feel I would sink deep into the earth and come back sprouting with ideas and beauty. Oh to be snow.

       I remember the snow fall of my dads last Christmas. It was just like this moment.
We were sitting outside on the steps, the paint was still fading and every other step had a slight creek. The music was barely heard from out here, the laughter and conversations were muffled. I sat next to my dad with a jacket and a hot chocolate in my hand, I was holding a light blue mug, the heat was sleeping into my fingers.

     It was cold outside, my nose was cold and I'm sure my ears were red. It was cold but I didn't want to go inside.

     My dad was sitting next to me. He had his working jacket on, his hair always combed to perfection when it came to a special occasion. His nose and cheeks were slightly pink, he was holding a green mug. The one mom bought  him for Father's Day that year.

     "I like it better out here." I said quietly.

    "Why? It's nice being around people." He answered back.

    "I know but I'm not all that good with talking. Besides moms got that whole socializing thing down."

He chuckled and said,

    "Yeah she does. I think that's what ladies do best they know how to talk to people."

    I nodded and took a sip of the chocolate, sweet and warm. I felt it warm up my throat.
My dad was a people person but I think he preferred listening then speaking. I think he liked being around them, understanding them, watching the world from a distance.

    "What did you ask Santa for this year?"

    "Same thing I ask for every year. What about you?"

      "Snow." He said and took a sip.

    It snows every year. He somehow believed it was a miracle it did. But that was my dad, who believed Santa brought snow and loved hot chocolate but hated chocolate cake.

   As we sat we seen the first snowflake fall down, soon followed more and more. We watched the first snowfall. We aren't able to see the first snow fall last year, so I was sure my dad was jumping with joy to see it. I asked my mom once why dad loved the snow so much, she had said when he was growing up every year was difficult. He didn't know if they were going to have food, if his dad was going to have work, if his mom was going to make it through the winter. A life of uncertainty but he could always count on the snow to be there, even if it was cold as hell he had the snow.

   As the cars slept and the street stood still, slowly began to get covered. I wondered about all the kids who were excited to jump in it. I also thought about all the kids from California who never understood the first snow fall and what it meant to a kid. The sunny California kids who never got snow but always wished for rain, I was just a gloomy Brooklyn kid who got snow and didn't care for the rain. I turned to my dad to see his reaction, hoping to see the smile he reserved for lilac flowers and my mom.