Sweat

I stand motionless as the breath forms in front of me and vaporizes. I revert to childhood and mimic smoking a cigarette, but the joke is lost as there is nobody to observe the gesture. The quietness is both alarming and relaxing. I step forward and feel my foothold give. My arms spring outward forming a lowercase t with my body for balance. I take another step without problems and slowly descend the slight slope of the driveway. The shovel glistens in nearby light as I approach the garage. I grab the red handle and turn to survey the work ahead of me. I reach up to wipe my nose with my shirt sleeve and my face is stiff. I pull the cap lower on my head to protect my ears. I reflect on the temperture, wondering if it is single digits. The shovel turns in my hand as I examine it. The broad blade of the shovel is positioned at the edge of the accumulating snow - just inside the garage. A tilt of thirty degrees is used as the shovel is pushed to the outer edge of the driveway. I stop again and examine the exposed concrete, a thin layer of ice remains, but it resists the shovel. I move to the next row, it is a wet, fluffy snow as I push the shovel with one hand. Darkness descends as I methodically make my way down the full length of the driveway.