Sunday, February 24, 2013

Seasons: Snowstorm

Everyone from Connecticut to Maine woke up to snow crawling up their doors and hiding their cars in drifts. Restaurants in town and the VFW are posting that they are closed.

The roads were impassable and visibility was zero, so they said on the radio, and they said to stay home. The snow fell steadily, and the wind zipped around the eaves and windows.
My son is watching Swiss Family Robinson again, and I am bustling about the kitchen clanking dishes and wiping up crumbs.

I look out the window to see that my husband hasn’t been buried by the snow or frozen permanently to the ground, blown over by the wind. I wonder if I ought to tie a rope to his ankle.

The movie is over, and said son is switching to the Wii. Oh the drear of winter and the luck of still having power. At least we have electricity and heat.

I flop on the couch. My head throbs and throat hurts. I’m tired. I watch colorful cartoon men run around my tv screen. I don’t sit long. The tedious repetition of the video game announcer is enough to make me want to scream. The laundry is done, so I should fold it. On my way to the dryer I check the oil tank gauge. It’s almost at the bottom.

I tell my husband when he comes inside, “The oil tank is almost empty. I’ve turned down the heat.” I pause, “How ironic. We have power, but no oil.”
I hunt around for the space heaters. It’s late afternoon on a Saturday and no one would deliver oil even if they could even get to our tank. When the three heaters are whirring, I sit again. Now the tv is off and the radio is on, and the computer is in use.

“I want to be so far gone in you.” The song is talking about God, but even though I think about God a lot I don’t quite understand the sentiment. I’m ready to turn off every electronic device and threaten my child with a board game or worse, a book.

My head is throbbing, and I want to eat something. I rummage in the kitchen for something other than a cookie. What I really want are potato chips, but there aren’t any. Why didn’t I buy some at the store yesterday? I’d like crawl in bed with a large mug of hot tea, a bowl of potato chips, and read uninterrupted. Let the snow fall and winter rage on, and when spring comes, I would be in bed reading.

Note: This was winter storm Nemo February 8-9, 2013.

No comments: