By Monica A. Andermann
Nature has no mercy at all. Nature says, "I'm going to snow. If you have on a bikini and no snowshoes, that's tough. I am going to snow anyway."
~Maya Angelou
Dad's voice came across the phone line, frantic, "I'm out of my medication." Since Dad had gotten older, I tried to remind him not to let his prescriptions run out. Yet here we were again, in a crunch. I pushed the curtain away from my window and looked outside. Snow had been piling up since early that morning and now my car was covered with at least six inches of white powder. I took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Don't worry, Dad," I said. "I'll call the pharmacy and pick up the refill."
Nature has no mercy at all. Nature says, "I'm going to snow. If you have on a bikini and no snowshoes, that's tough. I am going to snow anyway."
~Maya Angelou
Dad's voice came across the phone line, frantic, "I'm out of my medication." Since Dad had gotten older, I tried to remind him not to let his prescriptions run out. Yet here we were again, in a crunch. I pushed the curtain away from my window and looked outside. Snow had been piling up since early that morning and now my car was covered with at least six inches of white powder. I took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Don't worry, Dad," I said. "I'll call the pharmacy and pick up the refill."
"Just be careful," he reminded. "It looks like it's getting slippery out there."
It wasn't getting slippery — it already was slippery. I stood at the window an extra minute after we finished the call and watched as cars inched along, their tires barely getting any traction on the road. I wasn't looking forward to this drive, even though it was only a mile and a half to Dad's house, with the pharmacy directly on the way. I dressed for the elements, then grabbed my car keys. As I walked down my front steps, I could hear emergency sirens blaring on the main road. An accident. I tossed my car keys back into the house, then pulled my scarf a little snugger around my neck. I'd better walk this errand.
In more pleasant weather, I had made this walk with some frequency. I enjoyed the exercise and the opportunity to connect with some neighbors along the way. But today, under these conditions, I was not looking forward to the experience. By the time I reached the pharmacy though, I was grateful that I had walked. Cars were having trouble moving forward, backing up, and stopping.
I looked up into the gray sky as I started my final leg of the trip and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that I was moving along safely, and soon I discovered I actually was enjoying the whole situation. The brisk air was just chilled enough to be invigorating and I found myself reveling in the sights and smells of a fresh snowfall. In fact, I hadn't enjoyed, really enjoyed, a snowstorm like this since I was a child.
Then, just as I was pondering these thoughts, I felt a hand grab me at the elbow and give me a sharp tug. I stumbled several feet onto a neighbor's lawn only to see a car careening up the curb. The vehicle finally came to rest in the exact place where I had been walking. Stunned, I dusted myself off, then turned around to thank whomever it was who had pulled me from danger. Yet, no one was there nor were there any tracks other than mine in the snow. As I started on my way again, I offered up another silent prayer of gratitude — this time for the angel sent to watch over me and keep me safe in the snow.
It wasn't getting slippery — it already was slippery. I stood at the window an extra minute after we finished the call and watched as cars inched along, their tires barely getting any traction on the road. I wasn't looking forward to this drive, even though it was only a mile and a half to Dad's house, with the pharmacy directly on the way. I dressed for the elements, then grabbed my car keys. As I walked down my front steps, I could hear emergency sirens blaring on the main road. An accident. I tossed my car keys back into the house, then pulled my scarf a little snugger around my neck. I'd better walk this errand.
In more pleasant weather, I had made this walk with some frequency. I enjoyed the exercise and the opportunity to connect with some neighbors along the way. But today, under these conditions, I was not looking forward to the experience. By the time I reached the pharmacy though, I was grateful that I had walked. Cars were having trouble moving forward, backing up, and stopping.
I looked up into the gray sky as I started my final leg of the trip and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that I was moving along safely, and soon I discovered I actually was enjoying the whole situation. The brisk air was just chilled enough to be invigorating and I found myself reveling in the sights and smells of a fresh snowfall. In fact, I hadn't enjoyed, really enjoyed, a snowstorm like this since I was a child.
Then, just as I was pondering these thoughts, I felt a hand grab me at the elbow and give me a sharp tug. I stumbled several feet onto a neighbor's lawn only to see a car careening up the curb. The vehicle finally came to rest in the exact place where I had been walking. Stunned, I dusted myself off, then turned around to thank whomever it was who had pulled me from danger. Yet, no one was there nor were there any tracks other than mine in the snow. As I started on my way again, I offered up another silent prayer of gratitude — this time for the angel sent to watch over me and keep me safe in the snow.
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