is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Oh the snow
Friday, February 8, 2008 In the last nine days, I've shoveled snow 47 times. Forty-seven times.
OK, maybe eight times. But the days I've been out there twice in one day with my multiple-sized shovels and a bundled up boy and little bowl of salt to sprinkle on the path from the door of the house to the door of the car, are worth at least seven done by snow-blowers.
I've shoveled early in the morning and well after dark. I've done the gangway and the walkway to the back gate where the garbage cans and garage are. I've shoveled out the car and my neighbor's paths and pulled Lil E from a giant pile of discarded snow.
I've shoveled when the snow is falling faster than I can sweep it from the sidewalk and when I am done, it doesn't even seem like I've done a thing. I've shoveled ice and slush and pristine white snow that feels shameful to disturb.
I've shoveled in my full Chicago winter gear and last night, in my clicky clicky boots and good ass jeans. I've run outside for a few solid scoops and labored over the stubborn ice under a few inches of the soft stuff.
And really, I don't mind it. I've been talking and talking and talking about flexing my single mama skills in the snow, but I actually like it. It feels (dare I say this?) good to work so hard that I feel sweaty and chilled at the same time. I like the tangible accomplishment, of seeing exactly what work I've done (except in the places Lil E has un-shoveled gleefully from the snow piled up over the frozen grass back on to the sidewalk). I like making snow angels and throwing snowballs at the side of the house in the gangway when we are done. I like walking out of the house and seeing the cleared path before me and knowing I did that for us, all by myself, even in the middle of a storm.
I like hearing the scrape of the big plastic shovel on the pebbled cement of the sidewalk and then the shhhhhfffft of the snow heaved off to the side and landing in big, uneven piles. I like the silence that the snow insulates over the busy city street where we live. I love that the snow, when it is wet enough, coats the trees and bushes so that every detail of every branch is beautiful and revealed.
I like to work out my frustrations and anger shoveling, to think and breathe and meditate shoveling, to center on clearing the path before me, one swift move at a time.
All this said, I am ready for spring. Ready for the metaphors and warm wind and budding flowers that come with the change in weather. But since that part of the world extends immeasurably beyond my reach, since it is still adamantly winter with snow that has fallen beyond our seasonal expectations, I will keep digging my way out.
I will keep complaining and smiling, working it out and focusing in, shoveling my way out to that world.
Cross-posted at Chicago Moms Blog.
