January 8, 2007
The snow was falling heavily, as it had fallen all the day before, a thick, white curtain softening and beautifying the drab brown earth. I was safe and warm and fed and had no place to go. I was aware that my parents were probably out in it, trying to manage the farm chores. I worried about them, briefly, and felt bad that they had to be outside, but there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I was at work. I was doing what I was supposed to be doing at that time, and I absolutely refused to feel guilty for enjoying every minute of it. I bounced from window to window, admiring the snowfall. I bopped around to the radio. I read. I got up and made the rounds of the windows again. I like snow. I love snow. I love it when it’s snowing heavily and I have nothing to do but stay warm and dry and curl up with a good book.
My client spent the day fussing and fuming and swearing it had never snowed all day long ever before! She asked repeatedly, “Is it still snowing out?” and threw herself into a new round of exclamations every time I told her that yes, it was still snowing. She worked herself into such a state she could hardly sleep that night. OK, so she was blind and couldn’t savor the beauty, but she was also safe and warm and had no place to go, and, at 90 years old, there was certainly nothing she could do for any of her loved ones who had to be out in the elements! But not one word of appreciation for what she had crossed her lips that entire day.
The day was what it was, and there was nothing either of us could have done to change a thing about it. But which of us do you think had a better day?
I have learned that life is too short to waste time fretting over things I can’t change. This woman is more than twice my age, and yet she apparently has not learned this lesson. From everything I know, she has been a wonderful wife and mother and friend, and everybody loves her. But I can’t help but pray that, should I live to be 90 years old, I will still be able to enjoy the snow.