If it weren’t a workday and if you weren’t sick I’d build you an igloo.
I’d make it so big you could see it from your bedroom window. The snow is perfect for it: a whole night’s worth of the wet kind.
But in fact, I’m sitting in my car right now, stuck on the freeway, rationing my windshield cleaning fluid so I don’t run out before I get to the office.
You’ll just have to imagine sunlight filtered blue through igloo walls. Imagine, too, the fresh air, the cold snow, your long hair wet from making angels while I packed bricks of snow into arches and walls.
Us smiling instead of you feverish in bed and me wondering why I’m here.
How quiet it would be inside your igloo, if only it wasn’t a workday.