18 Years

In case I haven't mentioned it, I love snow.

Eighteen years ago yesterday, I was in 6th grade. I went to school as usual and my mom headed off with my youngest sister to do Christmas shopping after dropping me off. By noon there was three inches of snow. Now in some places, that is just a light a pleasant dusting. But here, where 1/2 inch of snow means school and road closures, 3 inches in four hours is serious business. School ended early that day and I had a lovely (if chilly) walk home. My mom made it back just in time. In the morning, there were six more inches--and no more school until after Christmas. We took out the toboggan and went sledding at the local elementary school and golf course. We rescued people who had been stuck in their cars and generally had a great time.

Yesterday, I went to work with a rapidly melting 1/2 inch or so on the ground and mostly clear roads. Buses were late and chained up but I made it. After watching some of the heaviest and most consistent snowfall that I have seen in quite a while (eighteen years, maybe?), I and the others that were relying on bus transportation to get home, left. Never have I regretted my lack of forsight in not wearing my boots so much. Two hours later, I was home and warming up--just in time to go for a much more enjoyable and appropriately bundled up walk with Jonathan. We got about 5-6 inches altogether and the temperature never got above 27 degrees.

Today, there is not yet more snow but iced-over roads mean cancellation or limitation of most bus routes and, for the first time since I have worked there, a reduced staff level at work. Snow day!