While I went foraging for life-saving provisions of medicine and Christmas cards and a Starbucks elixir, I was met by dozens of fat, fluffed, puffed up robins. They were diving in and out of the 1/2 inch thick bushes and perched atop the small trees that were bending under the weight of the ice that had formed on each branch and branchlett.
The birds were a good sign to me. At this point, seeing anything that wasn't a shade of brown, white or grey was positive, and against the too-bright and endless sea of white/grey, the robins' breast of rust stood out. I saw that the sun was trying to make a break for it across the sky, feebly attempting to thaw the foot of snow and ice that had gathered. And this bolstered my spirits slightly.
To a certain extent, I've been surprised by my ability to stay sane after a week of bad weather. This last weekend really tested my strength as the first storm finally melted away for a day or two of adequate driving conditions. However, this changed as a second snow storm blew in this weekend and covered everything in even more snow.
The only thing I can think is that this is another example of testing my will and my ability to do all that is in my power while remaining patient; something I don't do well. I joke that I was born impatient, but that isn't so far from the truth. After all, I was almost born in less than two hours, and in the effort of bursting into this world, I got caught in my own cord, which paradoxically prolonged my poor mother's suffering and slowed my own birthing. Still, four hours all in all is pretty damn fast.
My unending optimism and my burgeoning patience leads me to have enough strength to realize that some time soon, the weather HAS to change. I just hope it does before I go home for Christmas.
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