Snow gets people talking.
Most people, it seems, 'used to love it' but now they 'hate it'. They start grumbling conversations with fellow commuters, shoppers, and waiting-to-cross-the-road...ers. (‘Achh, this snow...’ A shake of the head and a furrowed brow. ‘Oh I know, I know.’ A mutual display of wet feet and dirt-splattered trousers. ‘It’s just getting beyond a joke now.’ A moment of connection between strangers, and then a parting of ways.)
When it started snowing at the end of November I was saddened to recognise that my attitude was similarly negative. I shook my fist at it, and glowered. (‘Eugh! Snow!’) And then I was shocked at myself; I was thinking like a Grown Up.
When I was younger, most of my favourite characters – William Brown, the Little Prince, Peter Pan – hated the Grown Ups (those grumpy, sullen-faced individuals that take things too seriously, are always thinking about money, and have become used to the stars). I remember resolving to never become one.
I hope my grump at the snow isn’t the first steps on the slippery slope. Getting older is inevitable, but becoming one of the Grown Ups is optional.
Yes! Snow is a nuisance: it sneaks under scarves and assaults necks with tiny cold hands. Yes! Snow is hazardous: it renders the motorway useless and causes pensioners to slip and fall. But look! Look at how it makes an ugly town beautiful. Look! Look how it transforms children into artists. And listen! Can you hear that? Hold your breath for a moment, and listen: it is whispering as it falls.
♥
lovely.
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