As I lay curled up on the couch, perfectly content and warm, surrounded by two sleeping dogs on the floor and my mother across the room, all breathing deeply, with the dogs dreaming of chasing moles judging by the twitching of their limp paws, I can hear the roar of the snowblower and I glance lazily out the windows only to see the complete whiteout revealing only a few bare trees. I can’t help but think how ironic the many Easter decorations positioned around the house are compared to the temperature and amount of snow on the ground. In only a few short weeks, all this snow will be gone, making way for green grass, crocuses, and blue skies, I think hopefully.
Out of no where, the garage door opens quickly and slams shut after the person entering the house. Uh, oh, this can’t be good I can’t help but think. My brother had taken all his snow gear off and is stomping his way into the living room, only to announce that the snow blower is temporarily not working and he’s taking a much needed break.
My mom looks at me after talking with my brother about what happened and says, “If we don’t get it running, we have to go shovel the driveway.”
Suddenly, I understand the look and a bit of panic takes over me as I think about having to shovel the whole driveway and leaving the warmth of my cocoon.