As I sit here, and begin this blog, thunder roars in my ears. Here in Western New York, we often have thundersnow during big storms. I received word Wednesday night that my afternoon job would be canceled Thursday and Friday. And this morning, I texted Work-Mark and told him my street had not been plowed and there was a driving ban still, so he told me to stay home.
I really want to write, to spend the whole snowy day immersed in my words. But the truth is, I am still not comfortable at my desk for some reason. Currently, I am writing on my phone while sitting on my couch in the living room. Maybe it is that I am not ready to write in the space I have created, or maybe it is because I am taking my snow day to heart.
Do you remember being a kid, and listening to the radio, or watching the runner on the news? Now I get a robocall when school is closed, or an email or text message. But what wonderful anticipation we had that children today will not experience- we sat there and prayed to the gods of childhood wonder and hoped that we would be free for one day! One day, with no questions or teachers or homework. They would say our school’s name over the radio and we would erupt in cheers! I would run upstairs and change out of my uniform and back into my pajamas. My mom would make me a nice breakfast, and we would watch TV together. In the afternoon, I would play in the snow, building snowmen and forts and having snowball fights with the kids in the neighborhood while my father shoveled the driveway.
Today, my kids are home from school- at their mother’s currently – and they will be here later, provided driving bans lift. They did not wake up at the crack of dawn today to listen to the radio with that delicious anticipation. In fact, they are probably still asleep, already fully aware that the world is blanketed in white. I never went back to sleep on those snow days- it seemed a waste of a perfectly good day off. So here now I am at 8:30 in the morning, thinking of what I shall do with my day that exists within the four walls of my apartment. Eventually, Mark will shovel, and I will dust off the car. But until then, I will stay in my pajamas and drink hot coffee and think of all the things I could be writing if I could just get my butt to sit at my desk.