The beauty of a snow day. It seems like most people experience it: The thrill of not being where we're supposed to be every day.
The dramatic weather reports do want to scare and keep people tuning in, but you can't help but continue to watch and keep up to date of the storm. I especially like hearing the accumulation totals: The words "record snow fall," while overused, perk up the ears. I like this time of year.
As a child, it wasn't fun to experience the disappointment of having the meterologists' warnings be wrong. It wasn't cool to have your school stay open or have the snowstorm happening on a weekend, especially when you had allowed that hope to seep into your consciousness that perhaps, just perhaps, school would be closed. When you heard my Mom's footsteps at the door, you knew that good news was coming.
Shoveling snow can be fun, too, especially when your Dad insists on doing the real heavy lifting. My parents had a plastic red shovel that was light enough to push the bulk and gave you the illusion that you were helping tremendously with snow removal. When we were small enough to fit on a plastic sled, my Dad pulled us around the backyard, which was big since it wasn't home to a massive pool like the other neighbors on the block. Inevitably, I would fall face first into the snow. My Mom never liked us to get our clothes wet because we would drip all over the house; this did not bode well for her clean sensibilities. But we did get into the thick of it, especially on the porch, and then returned to the house for a cup of hot chocolate or tea.
Now, snow days are rare ones, but when they happen--like today--they're a real treat. We may still be obliged to
work from home, but being in a comfortable setting, being able to look frumpier than usual and not having to worry about a figure looming at your cubicle help the psyche a lot.
I am soaking in the view of the falling snow. This is life...not just the obligations or what you do that make you useful. Step away and regain perspective.