Let It Snow

Every teacher dreams of snow days, and I've always been delighted by the delicate flakes wafting down. My old roommate and I got into some heated discussions over the cold precipitation years ago, but I'm starting to see her perspective. Cat used to call - well, still calls - snow "frozen evil falling from the sky." I couldn't understand how someone could question the innocence and joy inducing quality of snow, but now, wheelchair bound, I totally get it.

Don't get me wrong, I still am delighted by snow. I think it's beautiful. However, I'm trapped in my house today because I can't wheel in the three inch drifts covering my neighborhood. I can't walk by myself because of the added danger the powdery white wonder leaves for my uncertain feet and crutches. I mourn the loss of my childlike glee at dancing in the snow, but I refuse to surrender the childlike glee completely. 

I still want snow days - but I also want to play in the snow again someday. I'm not able to get far in it this year, but I'm still hopeful for a snow day in my future where I can make a snow angel with no fear of whether or not I can stand up again on my own after. I haven't seen any significant physical progress in the last days to merit this audacious wish, but I've seen a miracle over the last year when I was told I only had a 1% chance of walking. I'm still healing; I'm still hoping.

Teachers never stop hoping for snow days.