Omaha, NE: I am trying to think of something creative to write today. How the stillness of the season feels sacred. How the snow drifts forming outside conjure up memories of childhood. How the carols sung at midnight mass stirred the soul.
But I got nothin'.
Instead, I'm sitting inside my parents' new house (though a lovely location, still missing the
old place), fidgeting with my comfy pants that are a bit un-comfy (thanks to delicious Christmas snacks and extra egg nog from Mom), itching my dry skin provided by cold midwest weather and realizing today I am stuck.
That's right -- stuck.
I know it's December. I know it's Nebraska. I know that most years I dream of white Christmases. But this year, we got a blizzard. So far, they've estimated 10 inches of snow that's already accumulated. 10 inches isn't THAT bad, is it? It's not like the
Blizzard of '75 where two feet fell and killed 58 people. My mom reminds me that she was seven months pregnant with me when it happened.
"I was working at Mutual and they let us go early. So, a coworker drove your aunt and I back to Grandma's house, but we had to walk the last two blocks because her car couldn't get up the hill. It took us about half an hour to get there! And the snow was so deep, it was up to my belly."
Granted, she's only 4'9" (and 3/4 inches... excuse me), so snow up to her belly would probably be more like snow up to someone else's kneecaps.
There's a lot of snow today, but it's not
'75, and one could seemingly get around if one really wanted to. But Dad definitely does not want to. Nor does Mom (now, probably 4'8.5", bless her heart). And as much as I'm complaining, I don't think I could handle the wind whipping up snow piles all around me, as I drive like a grandmother, gripping the wheel. In temperatures that feel like 5°.
The funny thing is, I like having down time. I like not
having to do anything. But when I am
forced to stay in one place, it makes me feel like a trapped mouse. Except without the cool
maze to explore.
So, this Christmas, I will spend the day watching my Dad move from window to window to follow the gusts of winds, smelling the kitchen turn into a midwest
meat and three (and subsequently pushing my stomach to new limits), texting the boy countless times to tell him I miss him (and how jealous I am that he decided to stay in 35° weather) and occasionally spiking my eggnog with a bit of whiskey & rum. And by occasionally, I mean continuously for the next six hours. (out of necessity, of course.)
Guess being stuck does have its upside too.
