Tonight snow is falling all over New York State, from Middletown, where I was born, to Saratoga Springs, where my father was born, to Utica and New York Mills, where my mother was born. My father loved to tell me how he sledded down a big hill smack into where the Northway Super- Highway is now. Back then, it was wilderness, wild country, right outside of town. The boys would drag their toboggans and sleds to the Big Hill (which he would point out to me when we were driving on the present Northway to Saratoga, and I'd have to try and picture no road and just snow) and down they'd go.
My father has passed into eternity, but because I'm human and still stuck here, I like to imagine he visits the scenes of his youth. About a month before he passed, as he lay helpless in bed 24/7, I whispered to him., "You'll be back in Saratoga soon" while stroking his soft gray hair that still held a slight wave, and he opened his bleary, foggy eyes and looked at me, but I know he did not understand. Now he is unfettered. He can walk through Congress Park now, like he dreamed when he was unable to walk. How he loved his home town and the memories he made there.
Tonight the snow is falling and blurring the line between the present and the past. The sky is white with reflected snow, and the air is hushed. Lights and the present are hazy and blurred, and it could be 1921, when my father was 2 years old. 84 White Street might not look so modern with it's addition and paint.
That is what I would imagine if I were there, walking the streets in the midst of the heavy snowstorm. Cars are unable to get down the unplowed roads and remind you of what year is it, and the black tree branches hold inches of snow, like icing, while the lights of the present appear haloed and dim through the snowflakes, and it's easy to travel back in time while I walk. The air is hushed, every sound is blunted by the low hanging clouds; it is very quiet and I can imagine my young and handsome father, just a young man, striding with his long legs down the sidewalks to home.