We drove through a blizzard today to see you. On those old, narrow Chester County roads that twist; the farm-to-markets that wind. But when we arrived, they told us visiting hours had been canceled, due to the storm. I made the mistake of telling Nick, “I wish I could scream.”
So Nick rolled down the windows, and opened us up to the cold. “Scream like there is no one listening,” he said. “Do it!”
And there was no one listening, so back down those roads I screamed and I screamed; the whole time thinking about you, and wishing you were here.