What I’m Thinking: Am I the Only One Who Loves a Good Snowstorm?

Sometimes I have a list of topics I’m eager to blog about while other times I’m feeling empty. That was the case this week until I saw on the news that the NYC area may get its first snow this season giving me a feeling of excitement. I’m quite sure I’m in the minority and don’t want to appear insensitive to those who have to get to work no matter the weather since I am fortunate to work out of my home office. Yet, there’s something about a snowstorm that gives me a cozy feeling, a feeling that the daily rush and responsibilities can be put on hold. Where this feeling comes from, I’m not sure. I’ve been reading Leslie Jamison’s essays from her book, Make it Scream Make it Burn. One of the essays titled, We Tell Ourselves Stories in Order to Live Again, is about people who experienced memories from past lives, leaving me to wonder if something in a past life has stirred this emotion in me. Then again, growing up in Upstate New York most winters meant snow, and lots of it. When I was little, we’d cheer when my dad, who was Superintendent of Highways, called the principal to tell him the roads were too dangerous to navigate, and school was then canceled for the day. (I can’t say my mom was as thrilled.) Still, it often meant staying in my pajamas a bit longer, having a cup of hot cocoa with toast and watching cartoons. As a teenager, however, I didn’t get that warm and fuzzy feeling when those flakes began to drift out of the sky since an impending storm often ruined any plans I had. Often, when I’d ask my parents if I could go out, my father’s response would be: “Depends on the weather.” At the time I thought he was just being too cautious, but he’d seen enough accidents not to allow me in harm’s way for a night of dancing. So, of course, I worry about my loved ones who must travel the roads during inclement weather. However, once I find out that they have gotten safely home I then breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy what nature has to offer—until it’s time to go out to shovel. So, the question is, am I the only one who loves a good snowstorm?

Not sure what year this was or who is standing next to my dad, who is on the right.
Winters in Upstate New York often meant hunkering down for days at a time.