Yesterday I looked around me, at the snow, and smiled

Almost an entire rotation since I wrote last. We are entering a new decade, Bentley. Did you know that? Of course you did, aware of time in the same way that I am. Aware of snow, too, even there, in a different kind of desert. Back when snow was a novelty, I used to wait all year for the possibility--a probability, I don't know when it didn't snow at least once per winter, but rare enough to wonder--and when the snowflakes finally arrived, a look up, eyes wide, I'd listen to all the noise of the world being blanketed, and it was the sound I loved most. Not silent, but quiet. Have you heard it, Bentley? And even when I wasn't alone, when there were friends speaking to me, I heard that quietness as the snowflakes landed. But then I discovered loss and I forgot about that sound or could no longer hear it, and it was bad, Bentley. No rest for the weary, as they say. The constant buzzing, the year-round noise, not even muffled in winter. Until yesterday. I ventured out into the snow, drove on the dangerous roads, did what needed to be done, and by the time I returned, stepped out of my car, and looked up, looked around me, I saw that snow once again and smiled, and it wasn't what I saw but what I heard. It was a moment, Bentley.

But I don't know why I even bring this up because it isn't the happy ending I was hoping for.