It snowed yesterday and last night so I stayed in town. I just got back now after working a longer-than-usual day at the coffee house. I drove into the big driveway (shared by my brother) and was relieved to see that it was totally clear. My brother makes arrangements with a local fellow to have the driveway plowed after each big snowfall. Thank goodness too because I'm feeling tired from my longer-than-usual day, I have a headache building in the front of my forehead and my throat feels like I drank a glass full of toothpicks.
I loaded up my bags and walked across the driveway in the steadily failing light. As I approached the house I realized - uh oh, no walkway. Not a deer track, not an indent, nothing. No walkway! I shuffled a little to the left and right as though this would somehow result in the magical reappearance of the walkway and then I decided, "To heck with it, I'm going in." I trudged through the snow under the weight of my parcels, managed to unlock the door and threw my things inside. I recalled my brother saying that I could borrow his shovel if I needed one, and that it was on his front porch. I walked back across the driveway.
As I approached his house I realized again -- uh oh, no walkway. In my head, I initiated a "do I? or don't I?" discussion as I simultaneously took stock of how cold my feet were feeling in my lovely yet impractical high-heeled boots; unlined, two-and-a-half inch heel boots built for the sanded sidewalks of city streets. In the end I decided, "To heck with it, I need a shovel." "What's more," I thought, "I'll clean a path for my brother in case he should return home later tonight." Teetering in my lovely boots, I scrape a path for my brother as I make my way back to the driveway.
First things first, I had to chop away at the little snowbank that used to be the start of the walk. After four or five big scoops of snow, my breath came a little faster and my throat began its protest. Scrape, scrape...as I pushed at the fresh snow covering the walk, it fell back in behind the shovel. Scoop, scrape, scrape, scoop...I found a system that worked and made my way to the door. I uncovered the front stoop and turned to look behind me. It's been about 26 years since I've walked a balance beam so I thought, "I'll need to take another go at this." My throat felt dry and fiery from the effort of breathing through this workout. I winced a little before continuing on.
Scoop, scrape, scrape, scoop...I slid about on the snowy walkway. With little else to keep me grounded, my heels dug into the soft snow and kept me from slipping, but threw me off balance a bit. Scoop, scrape, scrape, scoop...finally I made it back to the driveway without incident. No falls, no crying, no twisted ankles, no busted shovels. Not entirely by design as much as by good luck, but done nonetheless. I returned the shovel to my brother's porch and headed back to the house.
It's a quiet night up here; no traffic sounds, no city lights. The wind is blowing and it feels a little moist, a little warm. I wondered what tomorrow would be like.
I trudged back up the walkway, opened the door, stomped the snow off my feet and stepped onto the linoleum...
and then..
I fell on my ass.
:$
I'm OK. Don't worry. The only thing I bruised was my ego.
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