The Wave

Snow fell today. To be accurate, we should say “slush,” but I am not sure how that falls. The snow banks on the sides of our street cradled the onslaught on freezing rain, creating a river without flow (almost measureable as a slump factor, for you true engineers).

Imagine frozen orange juice left on your counter.

Having woken up in a deliciously good mood, I decided to wear a skirt that my son had helped me pick out. (An exaggeration perhaps, but he was a great sport at the store). I awarded him full credit, as I was a little concerned about the combination of teal, gray, and burgundy printed on corduroy. But, for $7 he thought it was “pretty crazy” so I bought it.

I should also mention that, considering the typical weather here in my suburb, I often shovel my way four doors down to the bus stop in the morning. (Call it your middle-class, suburban, full body workout.) Since Mother Nature prefers a healthy suburban mom, she often allows me the opportunity to do it all over again before the bus returns in the afternoon.

I threw on my snow boots with my “crazy” corduroy skirt and opened my garage door.

Gladys grabbed her shovel and followed behind, pushing now, then dragging the shovel behind. I was a few yards ahead of her, alternatively shoveling and checking on her over my shoulder.

Then, over my shoulder, I saw the Fedex guy. I saw the young man through his truck window, chuckling at me, smiling.

I looked down at my boots.

I looked back at Gladys.

Then I saw my son’s bus slow down a few homes ahead to allow bus 64 to pass it. This happens every single day: bus 64 always passes my son’s bus at that exact spot. Every day, the buses follow this same dance.

The clockwork of this occurrence underscores the change in weather for me. A month ago I witnessed this dance in a light jacket, kicking leaves. Two months ago, I pulled the wagon in a cotton skirt.

Then I saw THE WAVE.

A tremendous, evil wave of slush grew larger as the bus accelerated towards the curb in front of me. I dropped my shovel and instinctively ran up the driveway.

Gladys (protected by angels) continued to focus on her shovel, standing behind a tree completely dry.

My son’s bus, now stopped two drives ahead, forced the Fedex truck to stop right in front of me.

“Hey! He almost got you!” his laugh was contagious.

“He’ll have to try a little harder next time!”

Andrew jumped off the bus, and the three of us ran home together into the warmth.