Stories from the Snow

I guess someone decided not to drive home from my kids’ school yesterday – a pretty good decision! And then somebody else had fun with their snowed-under car :)

I just love big snowfalls like we had yesterday in Ottawa (51 cms, in case any of you didn’t already know that!). There are so many stories built right into them. Stories including, but in no way limited to:

Challenges – Just about anyone, anywhere, trying to go about their day!

Helping – This happens all day long in Ottawa when the snow falls. Yesterday, on the way home from my swim practice, I watched as a young guy drove his way out of a snowbank, then pulled over by the side of the road and got out of his car to walk over to a SUV stuck in the driveway of the community centre. I parked in front of him, and walked over too. There we joined the community centre’s director, and one of the senior staff trying to help the driver – a new immigrant to Canada – get through the massive snow pile left by the plow. Three of us pushed, while the senior staff member tried to calm the woman, and eventually took her place in the driver’s seat. The woman was hyperventilating, close to tears, saying “I have never seen this before. This has never happened.” We all said “It’s OK. It’s normal. You’ll get stuck and people will help you. It’s no big deal.” We all thanked each other for helping. That’s how it goes in Ottawa. You let other people drive your car. You let other people push your car. You thank total strangers for helping you free the cars of other total strangers. I love it.

Things going ahead when you might not expect them to – Four of us showed up to swim practice. Our coach wasn’t there, but we put the lane dividers in and started our warm-up and our coach ran in, saying “I didn’t know if anyone would come so I asked the lifeguards to call me if you did.” The lifeguards had called her, she hurried over, and we had a great swim practice.

Things being cancelled that you were really counting on – I don’t even know where to start here. EVERYTHING was cancelled last night. The notices started as a trickle, then flooded in. No school council meetings, no kids’ activities, no swim practice for the poor swimmers who practice in the evening instead of at noon. For some people this was probably lovely – an unexpected night at home with their family in their snug, dry house. But for others … imagine if your night out was a book launch, or a crucial meeting, or a first date? So many stories …

I got to thinking about these “snow stories” when I was out running at 6:00 this morning. I had a feeling it would be magical to run the morning after the day before … and it was. White, pretty, quiet, very nice.

I was on my way back home, taking advantage of the emptiness of what – during the day – is normally quite a busy street, enjoying the minimal snow I had to churn through, when I looked up at a building I was passing.

It was one of those three-storey brick walk-ups – I used to live in one myself – they’re kind of old-fashioned, but the apartments are huge (by today’s standards) so they can be amazing places to live.

There was a woman standing in her living room window. She was wearing a tank top, and her hair was mussed. She was stretching and yawning, and looking out at me, and I immediately thought how interesting it was that we were in the same city, up at the same time, but having such different experiences in that moment.

I wondered if she felt sorry for me – out running in the dark and the leftover snow and the (sort-of) cold, while she was inside in an apartment warm enough to be wearing only a tank top.

Then I started thinking of how this could be a story. One woman inside, just waking up. The other having already run 6K, with a few more to go before getting home.

What would each of them be like? What would each be thinking? What would the rest of their days hold?

Then I thought, you could twist it – turn the whole thing on its head – imagine the woman out running resents every step and wishes she was inside, and the woman inside is desperate to be outside; seeing the runner makes her wish she’d gotten up half-an-hour earlier and headed on a run.

There are so many possible twists and turns and variations. So many possibilities.

So many stories that do come out of every snowstorm, and dozens more that a writer can imagine.