No Sign of Snow

Yesterday's forecast predicted snow - it seems cold enough and the skies are overcast, but there's no sign of snow. I can remember my daddy leaving for work on winter mornings and warning us to dress warmly - he had seen what he called a snow sky.

It's really more something you sense than see, like the feel of the air before a tornado watch. You go outside and can feel the threat of weather bearing down. Batten down the hatches, my grandmother would say, storm's a comin'. When I was growing up, I heard that often. I would walk into the house on an ordinary after school day and suddenly find myself in the eye of a storm. My mother, knitting and watching soap operas from her old green chair, smoking and well into her after lunch manhattens, would say nothing. She was waiting, just waiting. It was a bad sign but I knew that nothing would break until supper so I escaped to my room.

Supper began with noise from the kitchen. Things began to be slammed around, dishes flung onto the table, cabinet doors shut with force enough to make the glasses rattle. Unsuspecting, whether from intentional blindness or his eternal optimism, my daddy would walk straight into this commotion of rage. Readjusting at first glance, he would loosen his tie, put down the evening paper and ask What's happend? and she would turn on him with a vengeance.

From my room, I could hear the arguement escalate. The milder and quieter he became, the more it infuriated her. It might be about anything - a poor report card, being late from school, a call from a neighbor, being out of bread. She would shout, sulk, threaten or cry until she got her way. Sooner or later I would hear his footsteps on the stairs and there would be a tap at my door. Your mother..... he would begin and then his voice trailed off and with an apologetic attempt at a smile he would say Never mind. It's not important.

When he finally refused to fight anymore, things died down and he was able to placate her. Supper began and ended in tense silence and I left them at either end of the table, locked in wordless, useless combat. In my room, I opened a window to the cold night air and sat looking out at the stars.. After a while I heard the sound of the downstairs television, volume turned up to try and drown out the raised voices. There was a sound of breaking glass, a door slamming, and a car ignition starting. I heard my mother climb the stairs and held my breath, waiting to see which direction she would take, toward her room or mine. She paused at the top of the stairs and then her bedroom door crashed shut.

With a sigh of relief, I watched as my daddy drove away in the old Mercury station wagon. It had begun to snow as he'd predicted and although it was bitterly cold, this night's storm was over. It had indeed been a snow sky.