Snow Drift


The snow. It’s coming. And it will cover us all with feet of whiteness.

Like my covers.

I don’t want to stir. When I move, I switch from warm to cold.

The Spouse is in the Wasatch Mountains and, I am sure, with his own snow issues. Me? I’m home. In that big bed. With the somewhat ugly sheets.

On top of those percales is a heavy woven cotton blanket. It’s a super neutral beige. If the somewhat ugly sheets were white, the contrast would be pretty. The sheets are somewhat ugly, though.

I used to have duvets to add color to the bedroom. A big bed is such a vista suck, so the topper makes the difference. The last duvet was a rust paisley print that lost it’s charm very quickly. The rust was oxidized–like it took the air out of the room.

Today’s duvet is a pure white with a white ric rac border. Very subtle, and very good with that beige. It’s odd–and awesome–that it makes that neutral cotton blanket a colorful contrast versus a background.

On the foot of the bed is a quilt that my mother-in-law stitched. It’s primary color is a dusty rose and it has some creamy white. It functions perfectly as a foot warmer on top of the comforting fluff of white duvet that hides the feather comforter that lays across the beige tightly knitted blanket on the somewhat ugly sheet.

The house is old and almost drafty. During storms I hear the winds ripping under the roof, making a noise that makes me dig deeper under my pile of linens. In the morning, I dig even deeper.

When it’s cold, the air in the bedroom is cold, too. Shielded by layers of covers, my body heat is cached and reflected back. I wake up underneath the pile of bedding. The tip of my nose is cold. I pull the sheets up and tuck my face in. I move my right hand to stretch, and I feel the cold mattress. I pull my hand back close to me, where it was before, where it warmed up that spot.

I wonder how long until the alarm rings. I don’t turn to see the clock. It would disturb the temperature balance. I slide down the pillow a little, burrowing deeper into the sheets. I open one eye and see that it’s still dark, but on it’s way to light. I pull my knees up, closer to my body. I tilt closer to deep breathing and try to push my creeping to-do list out of my head.

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