Oh good Lord

More snow.

Lots of it.

Sigh.  I’ve shoveled more snow in the last couple weeks than I have in my entire life.

It’s pretty, but come on now, we’ve done pretty.  Lets get back to practical boring old grey rain.

And that poor little old white haired lady that I gave a ride home from the supermarket yesterday when I saw her skidding along the icy walkway clutching a bag of groceries to her chest.  I was worried that she might think I had a nefarious plan, because I was wearing gloves and I didn’t know her from a hole in a wall.  But I was worried she was going to break a bone so I stopped and offered her a ride.

She was happy.  Didn’t think I was a murderer.  Hopped in the car without hesitation.  Maybe she could tell I wouldn’t hurt her from my face. 

She chatted the entire drive to her house.  She normally likes walking.  Does it for exercise, but with all this snow we’d been having, she had been house bound.  It’s too dangerous to drive, but it’s scary to walk.  “All that ice you know.  I’m scared I’m going to fall.  Break a bone.  I hate it that I’m scared of that.  It’s not my way.  I’ve always been a brave, unafraid sort.  I know it’s hard to believe,“ she said confidentially, leaning a little towards me.  “Looking at me now, but I used to play hockey.“

“Oh my,“ I said.  It was hard to believe.  She looked so fragile, with her small little body, tiny bones and her snowy white hair.  She seemed the kind that would have been more comfortable petting a baby kitten.  But she was telling the truth.  It was shining out of her eyes over the rims of her wire rimmed bifocals.

I bet she’s happy she made the long dangerous trek to the store yesterday, waking up this morning to all this thick snow.

“I had to hold on to greenery, to get down the drive,“ she explained, when I’d stopped my car at her driveway and was waiting for her to finish talking and exit the car.  “That’s how slick the driveway is.  I must have looked a sight.  I am hoping the sun today will melt the last of the ice though.  That would be nice.“

Guess not.

Maybe I’ll drive by her house and see if she needs anything the next time we go to the store.  I think her husband has passed away, because she didn’t mention him, she never said “we” or “Alfred” or anything like that.

She was very sweet.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Saturday, January 03, 2009 in Chewing the Fat

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