It didn't really come as a surprise to us mid-westerners, snow in October. Especially not to us, my family. But this snowstorm? The one that snapped trees in two? That snowstorm the news thought wasn't news? The snowstorm that killed horses and cows and people wondered why ranchers didn't take better care of their animals? The snowstorm that took a whole year's income for whole families? The one that made a lot of people ask absurd questions, and the one that brought communities closer?
Yes, that one. It hurt more than it surprised.
Our barn roof fell in, but we didn't lose anything and our trees bowed deep and looked like someone had played a wild game of twister through their branches when all the snow dried up.
I drove home in a blizzard at four from work. The roads packed with slippery snow and I slid across the center lines once, right into the other lane. Took me twice as long to get home. Past cows hovered against barbed wire in gullies, black bodies covered with white. It made me shiver, remembering what I read about cows, how they keep moving until they can't go further, how they stay there and don't go back, and just freeze. Anything's better than going back.
Living room's are where all the fun is when you have boys and sisters taking EMT classes.You get things like human chairs and how to carry a body over your shoulder the proper way. There's usually talk of another game, but it doesn't amount to much cause it's just quite content doing nothing whatsoever but flopping bodies over arm rests and couches and giggling with one another.
There's this constant looking out of windows when the snow is up and about . . . something like a wandering, anxious feeling looking out at it all.
It's strange falling asleep in a house so deathly quiet as our house was that night, packed in tight with snow. And a whole day later we got our lights back. Some weren't so lucky. I hope they knew, I hope someone was there to tell them--how God is still good?