The Plow

My mom once told me that I could not be quiet. She feared an intruder in our home. If someone ever broke in and we had to hide? It would never work. I could tell you to be quiet and you simply would not have been able to. I thought it was funny when she told me that. But now, as a mom of a (couple) apples that landed quite close to the tree, I share her concern.

. . .

This morning there was a threat of an icy commute. I braved it anyway, and went to work. Everyone that called said they did not expect me to be there on such a wintry day. Two ladies that stopped in to make baskets for shut-ins around noon, an hour before I leave, warned me to get an early start out of the office. The snow was coming down hard and the plow had not visited yet.

As I left (on time, not early), the plow was getting started in the parking lot. The only vehicle in the east lot was mine. The plow passed me and I crossed the lot. unbeknownst to the driver of the pick-up/plow, he backed up his vehicle, gunning it, coming within half a foot of crushing me. In the moment I registered that I was still standing and alive, I noticed I had been plowed in, up to the door on the van.

“Make your heart jump?” I heard from behind. The truck had stopped. I could see two men inside, neither face registering the fear and anger that mine was. I made a sideways motion with my hand, saying, “So-so.” It took all my strength not to spout off on the mouth about being nearly hit, and on top of that, PLOWED IN.

It took me about 10 rocks in forward and reverse, with the plow kindly watching, to release my vehicle (a HUGE van) from the packed in snow. After backing out, I stopped in the plow’s path, stepped down from my van, and scraped the ice and snow from each window. He didn’t say anything, but sat and waited for me to finish.

The ride home was a slow journey through snow and cautious drivers. Some people won’t exit the house when it is snowy, as if the flakes are something foreign and forbidden. As someone who has lived in Wisconsin and New York, snow in winter does not concern me too terribly much. I enjoy it, especially when it dumps buckets like this. Talk to me in late winter, though, when Christmas is past and snow is not as new and exciting.

. . .

The kids hoped for a snow day tomorrow, but it doesn’t look like it will happen. That means I have the day to spend with my husband. Yay. We will shop and have lunch and spend the day together like we used to before I took this job. I miss that.

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