Drifts

“How many miles over the last fifty years of winters do you think I’ve shoveled, Emily?” JD watched as flakes fell.

“You asking me just to count the snow or everything else that has come out of your mouth?”

“Funny, Emily.”

“That’s why you love me. I’d help, but my hip is acting up with these temperatures.” She walked and stood beside him at the window. She rubbed his neck. “I’ll get your coat. You know we’re going to need the car, may as well dig now.”

The snow had piled two feet high against the back door and along the walk to the carport.

“I suppose I could start with a broom, clear a bit and the lift’ll be lighter later.” He kissed Emily on the cheek and went to get a broom while she got his coat. “The bushes look like dunes. Do you think this is what Egypt’d look like if it was white?”

“You mean the Sahara?” Emily gave an inconspicuous side glance without a smile.

“Sahara, yes. What if it’s just bushes under those dunes? I suspect there’s more, but sometimes big things just turn out simple, little.”

“Put your mittens on and get to work archeologist. I’ll warm up some tea for later.”

After two hours, Emily became concerned. She couldn’t see him out the window. Paramedics found him in a small snowbank, beside the car. They told Emily it looked like a possible heart attack. “Too many dreams, too little time,” Emily replied.