Snowed Under

Here in the Northeast we’ve been coping with some pretty foul weather for the last couple of months. At least every other week we’ve been graced with a quantity of snow sufficient to gum up the wheels of commuting and commerce, while simultaneously delighting my school-age children who have gotten a few days off to wallow in cartoons and video games.

I’ve been trying to keep my cool and remain detached about the weather, but I’m starting to get a tinge of cabin fever, and the relentless wrath of mother nature is wearing me down. Snow has been on the ground since early December and it doesn’t look like it’s planning to go anywhere anytime soon. A two hour slog to work in the inky darkness isn’t helping my disposition, nor is the 15 minutes spent waiting on the train platform as icy wind and rain blast across my face while I’m waiting for the 6:26. Usually while I’m standing there, I’m thinking about what a sorry lot of pissed off people live on Long Island and why can’t these motherfuckers smile once in awhile. It usually dawns on me that I am, in fact, one of those sorry-ass, pissed off motherfuckers, and that realization, very occasionally, makes me smile.

Winter weather obviously means different things to different people. To my wife, who works in an elementary school, every weather forecast that predicts snow in any quantity represents the possibility of a day off from work. To my kids, who diligently wear white socks to bed and pray to the snow gods every night before turning off the lights, a big winter storm represents the possibility of being loosened from routine and given a day to do as they will. To me, another big storm represents three hours of shoveling the driveway and digging out the cars and the likelihood of mass transit headaches and a three hour commute.

The snow, of course, doesn’t care what anyone thinks about it; it just falls from the sky and piles up on the lawn. Maybe therein lies the key to successfully navigating the winter. I can’t make the snow stop falling or the wind stop blowing. I can’t make the house bigger. All I can do is clear the snow from my driveway and my mind and keep moving forward. Sometimes bitching about things you can’t control feels good and righteous, sometimes it makes you feel small and mean, but it doesn’t change a damn thing, so why waste the effort? Spring will be here soon enough. In the readiness of time, the flowers will bloom.