Snow

Snow.  The people on the TV are predicting 11 to 15 inches overnight.  A few flurries are floating down towards the grass now, but the real snow is coming overnight.

As Margo sits down at the kitchen table with her cup of tea, she recalls how much she used to enjoy the snow as a child.  She and her sister used to go sledding with their father.  They had a wooden sled with metal runners.  It was painted red, of course.  Red, sled.  A rhyme.  She wonders if she has noticed that before.

The color red is beautiful in the snow.  Margo is looking forward to watching the cardinals gather near her bird feeder.  They always appear in her yard after it snows.  The male cardinals with their bright red plumage.  Courageous.  Daring.  Adventurous.

She used to love to go fast on that red sled. Sometimes her sister would lie on top of her on the sled, or sit in front of her between her legs. Her sister would scream to her to slow down, but Margo enjoyed the speed.  It was thrilling.

She wishes she could speak with her sister now.  They would commiserate about the coming snowstorm.  They would laugh about it,  and Margo would tell her sister not to worry, that everything would be ok.  They used to speak on the telephone at least once a week.  About everything - their kids, their grandkids, the news, the weather. Saturday mornings at 9 am, like clockwork.  And whenever they wanted to in between.  But her younger sister has been gone for six years. That was before this pandemic arrived. 

Margo remembers the first snowfall after she moved to this house. Her children were at that age when snow seemed like a miracle.  She remembers their amazement at how the world was suddenly a big white playground.  All they could think about was going outside. She would make them eat breakfast and then they had to wait for her to clear the table and drink her coffee.  Then the production of getting ready to go outside!  Snow pants, jackets, scarves, hats, boots, and last to go on were the mittens.  They looked so funny.  And adorable!  All she could see of them were their little faces.  

She showed them how to make snowballs.  When they were little she let them throw the snowballs right at her, and she would fall onto her back in the snow, laughing, pretending that they had knocked her down.  But when they became older, and stronger,  she told them to aim at trees, or at each other, instead. 

Now Margo’s children have children of their own, some of whom are old enough that they could be having children too.  A great grandchild sure would be nice. 

Margo’s husband went to the gas station a few hours ago to get gas.   She should have asked him to pick up milk on the way home.  They have a generator in case the power goes out.  The gas is for the generator.   But doesn’t the generator also need electricity?  Will it still work if they lose power during the storm?  She’ll have to ask her husband to explain it to her again. 

She remembers downhill skiing on snow covered mountains. When her children were in grade school, they wanted to learn how to ski.  So Margo learned to ski right along with them. It looked like fun, and she was athletic.  She always had good balance.

At first she was helping them. The children fell down in the snow, their skis fell off, and they needed Margo’s help to put their skis back on.  Quickly, they improved.  The children were skiing easily, and putting their own skis back on if they fell.  They would all get off the lift together, her kids would race down the slope, and then they would be waiting for their mother at the lift line.  They loved the speed, the thrill!  Just like she had when she was a child herself.  Her kids were laughing and daring each other to go faster. 

 But as a mother, Margo no longer felt that desire for speed. Why risk falling? The intermediate slopes were steep enough.  The scenery was spectacularly beautiful. And there was that amazing quiet while riding the chairlift during a heavy snowfall. It was a delight to listen to the children’s laughter and excitement.  When they were good enough to tackle the expert slopes, she let them go off without her.

Her tea is getting cold.  She gets up to put it in the microwave.  While her tea is reheating she goes out to the yard to fill the bird feeder.  The birds fly away from the feeder as she approaches, but many of them perch on branches in the nearby dogwood tree, watching Margo.  They are more numerous than usual today.  Somehow they sense that a snowstorm is coming, that they have to prepare. 

Sometime after her children went to college, Margo bought cross country skis. On snowy winter days, she skied at the park just outside of town.  There were fields, and a path that went around the lake.  Sometimes she went with friends, but more often she went by herself.  Cross country skiing was great exercise, and the snowscape was peaceful.

She feels chilled when she comes back inside, and remembers her tea in the microwave.  She reheats it for another 30 seconds as it has cooled down while she was outdoors. Margo feels cold all the time lately. How lucky that she has an electric blanket!  An old friend had been raving about her own electric blanket, explaining how she turns it on before she goes to sleep so that her bed is toasty warm before she even gets under the covers.  So two years ago, Margo ordered a new electric blanket on the internet.  The internet!  What an amazing thing.  You really can get anything on line.  And it arrives so quickly!  

The internet may get disconnected during the storm tonight.  And the phone. Margo is afraid of being cold.  Or worse, stranded, in a cold house, without phone or internet.  She feels slightly nauseous.  Is that from worrying as well?  Or perhaps she forgot to eat lunch. As she drinks her tea, she wonders if she might be catching something.  Not that horrible new virus, she hopes. 

Someone on television is talking about the snow again, warning people to stay off the roads tonight. 

Margo’s husband should be home soon.  Why is it taking him so long?