For the last two days, it’s been snowing pretty much nonstop. And since I no longer go into an office for work and we’re still living in an ongoing global pandemic, there’s really no “commute” anymore, unless you want to include the time it takes me to get from my bedroom to my dining room table where my computer setup is. So I haven’t left the apartment since Sunday, and I likely will not be leaving the apartment at all this week until maybe Friday.
I still remember when I first saw snow during my first winter in Wellesley in November 2004. I was so excited, and I couldn’t wait to build snowmen and make snow angels and just feel the snow on my face and skin. Now, over 16 years later, while I still find the snowfall beautiful, especially when the snowflakes are huge and fluffy, I also admire it while I am warm and cozy inside, preferably under a blanket and with a hot drink in hand, and still absolutely hate walking through it, especially days after the snow fall when the snow becomes ice, and I have to worry about my aging bones and the potential that I could actually fall and break said bones.