When I woke up this morning, I searched frantically for my glasses so I could run to the window and see this view of snow.
I have never considered snow bothersome.
During childhood, it meant that I didn’t have to go to school. In college, it meant I could sled down Libe slope. When I lived in Boston, I was within walking distance of my graduate classes. And as I entered the working world in New York City, I never worried about whether or not I could get to work. The subway runs, my friends. It. Always. Runs.
I recognize that for some people snow is a real inconvenience. I have never seen it that way.
So, this morning, I leapt down the stairs to look out the front door and my little two year old neighbor, Margot, came out in her pajamas.
It’s snowing! I told her, excitedly.
She came to the door with me, peeked her head out and said nothing.
Look at it! Isn’t it pretty? Let’s go play in it! I said, silently praying that this dear child would give me an excuse to play in snow.
She turned her attention to her scooter in the foyer. Do you like my scooter? she asked.
Yes. I like your scooter. But it’s snowing!
I’m going to eat my breakfast.