Snow is a funny thing. Because a little goes a long way. You see a dusting predicted, blanketing your smartphone widget, and everything changes. How you think, how you talk, and how you live your life. You start talking about hunkering down, digging your heavy duty boots out of the crawlspace, and stocking up on all things canned. Beans, mostly, and other non-perishable items perfect for when the power goes out for a couple hours. Dormant phrases like, "I gotta stock up" and "lake effect" reemerge as the forecast changes.
You stare into space, not space, but sky – assessing the girth of a passing cloud, noting “there are flurries in there” and other non-scientific musings. What if the WiFi goes down and you’re forced to have a conversation with someone - anyone? You don’t talk about sledding or snowball fights but slipping and falling. The fun of snow has completely melted away. Years can go by between snowstorms. It doesn’t matter. A relapse is always right around the corner. Fear and confusion are never too far away.
Snow is a serious thing. It makes you forgetful. You can’t remember how to lead a normal commute or carry on a normal conversation without breathlessly fogging up the closest window. You could “brave the elements” but that requires bravery. Too bad that when snow gets into the frontal lobe, that’s just not going to happen.
When you’re on snow you might begin mentioning the number of things you suddenly cannot do. The places you can suddenly not go. You allude to centuries old blizzard mishaps and snowcapped horror stories. You don’t want a repeat of the Donner Party on the way to the bodega. You came to buy a snack, not to be a snack.
This is your brain on snow. Any questions?
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