Like an elementary school project on Transportation, I peek into the diorama framed by the apartment window here.
Layers of ribbons stretch across my view.
At the bottom, rows of parked cars asleep under blankets of snow;
right above, uncovered ones progress along the barely plowed street.
Just beyond the two- and three-story buildings I spy the gleaming silver commuter train lacing between.
Higher yet, smoke rolls upwards from snow-covered chimneys aiming over the treetops as if directing pilots from O’Hare into the whiteness.
All of it filled in by billowy cotton or is that snow in high mounds and dense clouds?
I stare into the broad band of decoration sculpted by God and man...and give this group project an A+.
Lilly Kauffman is a non-fiction writer who was privileged to work as both librarian and a teacher. Her essays, whether serious or humorous, capture the experiences that allow us to laugh and grieve. Family and faith inform her writings. She is currently working on several book projects: A Mother Grieves in Ink, Ampersand, and Lil Letters.