February 7, 2018
The sun had long since risen when I shut the door behind me and climbed into the cab of my truck. Its golden orb was hidden behind the cover of the clouds that were spitting snow, but its light still penetrated what had been darkness only a few hours before. Earlier, that familiar rumbling I heard first crescendoing then fading into the distance gave evidence that in spite of the three inches of snow on the road, the plow had in fact been out. The pile of snow at the end of the driveways was mere confirmation of that fact.
The drive wasn’t terribly treacherous, although the lone tracks I was following had clearly gone off the side of the pavement at one time. I felt the tires catch as they dropped off the edge, causing me to slow down so I wouldn’t overcorrect trying to get back where I needed to be. At least I could see the semblance of a road; in the dark, I’d have been the one blazing the trail alongside the road, or perhaps even worse, riding it into the ditch.
It was light out, the crews had been out all night; the road was passable, and I am thankful today for the men who fight the snow through the worst nighttime conditions so I can drive safely in the day. And I am thankful that being retired, I don’t have to drive that road in the dark. I go to work when I please, a privilege denied to many. Topping it all off was the young woman at Tim Horton’s who took my money and handed me my coffee with a smile. It can be a thankless job, but she did it gracefully.
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