I Stand In My Driveway, Shivering

Written during Writing With Alex and Rueben 

I’m in Maryland, and it’s freezing. I stand in my driveway, shivering. The cold makes itself known in white clouds that emerge from my throat. My puffy purple jacket is left unzipped. My arms are scrunched up near my chest in a desperate attempt to preserve heat. The chill attacks my legs, poorly covered by leggings. The remnants of days-old snow lay clumsily in my yard. A gust of wind cuts into my face, making me cringe and grit my teeth. Can Mom hurry up? I think. If she were here by now I wouldn’t have to wait out in the cold. I hear other cars zipping down the road on their way to work or school. I can already feel my skin turning dry, and scratchy. I don’t have to look at them to know they’re white and cracked around the edges. Maybe that’s winter's way of reminding me they’re there. By leaving physical marks on my skin, marks that will turn into scars which will turn into memories. Memories of waiting outside in the cold, standing in my driveway, shivering.