Snow
It snowed last night. The air was filled with the type of quiet that only comes from a blanket of the white, fluffy stuff. The magical property of dampening the streetlights and beautifying everything. It also meant getting up this morning and having to clear the six or so inches of snow that had fallen.
I didn’t mind. Truth be told I kind of enjoy it. It gets me outside and it gets me moving, which is something that officer work/writing don’t offer enough of. The neighborhood was quiet, save the sounds of snowblowers and shovels scraping on pavement. The previous evenings still was gone but much of the beauty remained.
When I was a child we’d visit my grandparents, and lived with them for 18 months or so, in central Vermont. Snow storms would roll through blanketing the rolling hills and pastures with a thick coat of white, cold, beauty. At night we’d watch the plows, their yellow lights flashing off the snow as they plowed the road that was several hundred yards away. Rarely have I ever been in a place as quiet or still as the woods behind my grandparent’s house during a snow storm. It was a great place to be a kid.
This morning while dealing with my suburban, scale model of what my grandparents had, something struck me. I was enjoying the work of clearing the driveway and front steps. Clearing the sidewalk left me feeling good as well. I had enjoyed the snow clearing ever since our first winter in our house some thirteen years ago. Then it occurred to me. While I enjoyed the labor, it was the fact that I was clearing my driveway. That this was my home. Even though we owned a condominium before nothing really felt like home until we bought the fixer upper that still needs quite a bit of fixing up.
The phrase, “laid down roots”, comes readily to mind. My childhood was a bit chaotic and my adolescences only stabilized when I moved to Providence. None of the homes I knew as a child exist anymore. The structures are still there and even some of the objects but they are not the same. I have no childhood home to return to and haven’t for a long time. But I have my home and that means a lot.