Fact: I am still just as excited to wake up and see snow outside my window as I was when I was an itty bitty kidlet.
Only now I have a better camera than when I was an itty bitty kidlet, so it’s possible that these days I’m even more excited.
I left my car at home today. The only thing worse than trying to get up our steep driveway in the snow is trying to get back down it.
Instead I took about fifteen “me” minutes to just walk around in the white stuff and be enveloped by the stillness that came with it as it wafted softly down. I photographed the silent streets and breathed deep breaths of fresh, crisp air until my heart was as light and carefree as a helium balloon.
Then I reluctantly acknowledged the reality that it was Monday and I had places to be.
I joined a line of some two dozen texting and muttering people waiting anxiously for a bus. Approximately three minutes later, we got the word from a kindly couple in a truck that there were five buses stuck down at the bottom of the hill and not to get our hopes up that they’d be heading our way any time soon. At that, about three quarters of the line dispersed. Out of some misguided sense of duty, I decided to wait another ten minutes before giving up.
Exactly ten minutes later, the bus arrived.
Two transfers later I was on a community shuttle, seated directly in front of a bunch of college kids who were just not having it.
“Who was it that told me it never snows in Richmond? Who? Was it you, man?”
“Nope, not me dude. I said it was gonna snow Sunday, remember?”
“Some motherfucker told me it doesn’t snow in Richmond. When I remember who it was, I’m gonna punch him in the face.”
“Heh. I kinda hope, like, class is cancelled, but at the same time I kinda hope it isn’t because I came all this way.”
“Seriously man, I know someone told me it never snows in Richmond. When I remember who, I’m gonna kick his ass. Punch him right in the face. This is bullshit.”
“You should, like, drive over to his place and block his car in. Be all, ‘How do you like it?'”
“And then I’ll pack his exhaust with snow. Freeze his carburetor.”
They got off the shuttle at the first stop, still churning out increasingly outlandish threats to the mystery misinformer. I had to stifle a smile as they passed by.
The silence closed back in around us when they had gone.
We drove onward.
I arrived at work an hour and twenty minutes late. The snow is still falling softly outside the window.
I am happy.