Snow and Philosophy

You might have heard we had a snowstorm last week.  In the hysteria that led up to the storm, we were told we'd get 10-18 inches here in F'burg.  I waffled a great deal.  This was about our 5th major storm of the season, and not one of them panned out.  I took a poll amongst friends, most of whom were on the side of meteorologists, but when my friend Jennifer's husband Dave, who is a college professor and pretty even tempered guy, suggested that he thought this was going to be The Big One, I did finally pick up a few items for being snowed in.  Leah was convinced we'd get at least 18 feet, which would have meant our house was basically covered, but this did not deter her from her estimate.  The only thing I was really worried about was losing power, and I think I am going to talk to my neighbor the electrician about getting a generator installed.  But mercifully, we only got 9 inches of snow and no power failure.  I was sure we would, in that I recently finally put a digital clock back in my bedroom.  This is mainly because if I look at my iPad for the time, I start thinking I should check my email, despite the fact that it's 2 in the morning.  And I hate it when I get a clock on, and then the power blinks and I have to reset it a whole bunch of times.  Which is exactly what happened not 2 hours after I put the clock back on in my room--I came up the street from picking Leah up and the power company had trucks at the end of the street and I thought, "Oh shit."  Went inside, sure enough, everything was blinking.  ANNOYING.

But I digress.  The storm raged Wednesday night and Thursday.  About halfway through Thursday, it switched from snow to sleet and freezing rain, so there was a hard crust of ice over all the snow. 

Friday dawned clear and bright, and there was a message from Wiggle Worms on Facebook that they'd be opening as usual for the day.  And I sat and looked out the window at my snow covered driveway, and then I looked back at that little message of potential freedom and I considered 5 days in the house with no break for either Leah or me, and I knew I was going to have to shovel that driveway.  I called WW and made Leah a reservation for their Valentine's Day party so I couldn't back out, I dug out my winter coat and boots, got Leah into her snow clothes, and we went out to the shed and got the shovel.  (Yes, I should have done that Tuesday or Wednesday before the snow hit, but I was in denial, even with Dave's prescient advice.)

Leah and Snowy before she got all French Revolution on him

Leah said she wanted to shovel, so I let her go first, but she quickly tired of the activity.  We had gone out and made a snowman on Thursday morning, so she gave me the shovel back, went over and ripped off one of the snowman's arms, and turned him into a pinata and whacked his head clean off. 

My neighbor had been over at some point and dug a little path of about 3 feet from our fence to the driver's side door of my car, and so I started shoveling there.  I stood and looked down the snowy expanse of my driveway and started to think about a lot of things.

When I woke up Friday, I was officially the same age Mike was when he died.  When I woke up Saturday, I was one day older than he ever got to be.  And knowing that those dates were coming gave me some pause to think about what I was going to do with my extra days, however many of them there may be, how I might choose to spend them, how I had spent the preceding ones, who and what had influenced my life and decision making to that point. How far I've come, and how far I still have to go.

I also had thoughts about this house, how much we wanted it, how much we'd put into it, how much work it is.  In the past, one of our neighbors had a small plow attached to a tractor/golf carty type thing and he would come around and plow everyone out.  But that thing apparently died and now he has bad knees, and so he doesn't do it any more.  The neighbors all had to work on Friday, so I was on my own.

And it occurred to me that a year ago, I would have sat inside, snuffling and fuming, and waited for rescue.  But this year, as much as I didn't want to, I was outside with a shovel in my hand.

And so, I began to shovel.  I looked down the driveway, and realized how utterly ridiculous it is that I have an 8 car driveway.  I thought about castigating myself for not parking at the bottom of the driveway so I wouldn't have to shovel so much.  I thought about how out of shape I am and how hard it is to do manual labor of this magnitude.  I thought about shoveling with my mom a few years ago during Snowmageddon and how she's not a part of my life any more and how I'm on my own and what that means.  And for each negative thought I had, I tossed another shovelful of snow to the side.

Leah was cold and asked to go inside, so I got her in and settled with the iPad and a warm drink and went back outside to do some more.  Eventually the negative talk gave way to positive talk.  To thoughts of "I can really do this!  I AM REALLY DOING THIS!" and before I knew it, I was halfway down the driveway.  The county was scraping the roads and had put a nice big snowbank at the end, and I was NOT looking forward to that, but I chose not to allow myself to look that far ahead.  For once, I didn't borrow trouble and get discouraged by obstacles I hadn't faced yet.  I kept moving along.  I thought for a few minutes "I need to get married before next winter so I have a husband to do this" and thought about how when I was married, my husband never did shovel and how it would only be fair to help a partner if ever I choose to have one again.

I chipped away at the snow bank until I finally broke through to the street, and then managed to push aside most of the snow and get it into the drainage ditch so it won't get plowed back onto the driveway and won't cause problems in the street. And then it was done and I was proud of myself.  So very, very proud of myself.


I turned back towards the house each time I was taking a breather and always there was a little face in the window.  Sometimes she would wave to me, sometimes she would just watch, solemnly and silently.  As I neared the end, she banged on the window and cheered me on.

I know that what Leah observed was her mother shoveling snow.  What I hope she saw was that I didn't need help, I didn't wait for rescue, I didn't wait till I was smarter, fitter, prettier, the day was warmer, I felt like it, I was in a good mood, or any of a million other possibilities.  There was a job to be done, and I did it.  I was strong and independent, I didn't give in to doubts or negative self-talk, I took pride in my accomplishment after I finished.  In short, I hope I acted as a competent role model for my beautiful daughter.