It snowed the afternoon and night before, and lay in a quiet blanket over all. In the morning I rose and went to get a shovel from the garage. I made a path and walked up the driveway. Then I noticed them. Footprints. And I wondered contentedly, who has walked up to my house? Was Dan out there? They tracked from the mailbox to the door. A delivery that did not fit in the mailbox then? But no. Nothing lay on the steps. Nothing was wedged in the door. A single set of tracks leading from the mailbox to the door. A one way trip? That didn’t make much sense. Then it dawned on me. Those are tracks leading from the door to the mailbox.
I had a friend over, and when he left that’s the way he walked. Single set of marks made by feet. Look, there’s the place he turned to make sure the door closed properly. I had to shovel a few of the tracks away (the snow compacts and turns to ice on the steps if I leave it). The rest I left there. They’ll melt away. But for now, there’s footprints on my yard. And other things.