It wasn’t so long ago that 14 inches (355.6 mm) of snow wouldn’t bother me. I lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan where that much snow was a regular thing. And I’ve done my share of commuting through blizzards over the years; I remember a few 4 hour drives to get home. I used to do that just because it was expected that you went to work. So you did.
Now? Not so much.
More and more people are able to work from home, hook into their work computers and be almost as, if not more, productive. So struggling with the car and the snowdrifts isn’t so normal any more. Still. Late yesterday afternoon and into the night I watched the snow pile up and worried about how I was going to get to work in the morning. I pictured the winding hilly roads I travel and imaged driving them with over a foot of snow on the ground. I strained to hear the sound of snow plows anywhere near my home, but failed to hear anything but the wind.
And this morning it was obvious that I wasn’t going anywhere, at least until I cleared the driveway of over a foot of snow. Even Katie didn’t want to go out there unless I made her a path first. Trust me I tried to get her to go without one. Complete failure.
So I spent a couple of hours clearing the driveway and the road in front of my house. My two neighbors, both older men, cleared their sections of the road and helped me with mine. I began to feel guilty about not making an attempt to get to the office. But not one vehicle had been by and the people on the news said you needed 4 while drive. So I didn’t try.
Later in the morning the sun came out, the sky was blue, the snow brilliant white. Beautiful. I felt brave and almost got in the car to head in to work. I wonder why I feel so much more brave in the bright light of sun than I do in the middle of the night’s darkness. And I wonder when I got scared to drive in the snow at all.
The news is still showing back roads covered in snow and saying you need 4 wheel drive to get out of subdivisions. A few more neighbors have plowed their portions of our road. Maybe I can get out of the subdivision tomorrow. Maybe people along the bigger side roads have plowed their own bits too. Maybe the county has done the paved roads.
Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe I can learn to relax and enjoy an unexpected day off instead of feeling guilty that I didn’t make it in.
Maybe the sun will come up tomorrow and I’ll be brave again.
Maybe this is the last snowfall of the season.