Some days are to be forgiven even as they are arising or as a recollection unwanted. The snow has fallen but not violently. It lacks emphasis. It is a white skiff cemented to the ground with a sprayed on glue layer of ice. I could hear what kind of day it would become before I could even see it.
My snowboarder guest was out chipping a thoughtful passage from my door to the gate. The sound was unmistakeable. Not enough snow to allow the glide of the shovel, and too much ice to clear without chipping, crunching segment by segment.
I decided it would be an official UGLY DAY. I looked around for my well and truly appalling sweat pants. No matter how hard I work out, or how many squats I do holding a 15 pound weight to my chest like is was a Game of Thrones infant, I could never look attractive in these pants.
The waist hits me somewhere under my bra and the legs extend over my heels. My knees look like some creatures from the X-File pushing out of the wall of thick material.
Outside, the day was squatting on the hillsides like some weather spirit. It was deciding. More snow? Sheets of rain? The clouds were formulating possibilities.
I picked up my super strong snow shovel composed of some invention of clear blue plastic material that had some form of guarantee for how it promised not to break. I had purchased an assured weapon against winter.
Clearing my own sidewalk, my neighbours’ sidewalks is a form of social contract on our street. Our houses are small the frontage of our kingdoms is easily patrolled.
I held myself in neutral mode from the time I woke up. No need to make an emotional judgement about the day. If it can’t make up its mind, I don’t need to make up mine.
Along the freshly prepared sidewalk a group of young girls bounced toward me. At the front of the processing was a three year old with curly hair wearing a pink ballet costumes. She didn’t need a coat because she was performing a choreograph of spring.
The mother thanked me for clearing the way. And as I stood watching the absolute joy of this family, I noticed that I had been left a gift.
My neighbour Sarah had hung paper angels on each of my rose bushes. The black thorny limbs held angels dancing.
Sometimes, it is best to reserve judgement and stay open to possibilities. Yes, some days need to be forgiven, or maybe just my attitude to the day needs to be released so that joy can come in.