“HOW MUCH SNOW did we get?” I asked my husband upon arising Friday morning. I had no desire to bundle up and head outdoors to shovel the sidewalk and driveway. Again.
He guessed about five inches.
“I don’t feel like shoveling.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll blow it out when I get home.”
And so I felt a tinge of guilt, making the mail carrier and the few pedestrians in my neighborhood plow through the snow. But at least school wasn’t in session and kids wouldn’t be trudging through the snow, too, packing it down.
But then, around 2 p.m., the next door neighbor barreled down the sidewalk with his snowblower blazing a trail past our house and then back a second time to clear an even wider path. That Ken did this simply out of the goodness of his heart pleases me.
Up the street, a kindly soul opened the driveway and sidewalks of another neighbor whose property my husband typically clears of snow.
Across the street, the neighbor boy attempted to clear the driveway, a seemingly insurmountable job for the little guy. He was giving it his all, for awhile, clearing only a small section before abandoning the task.
Perhaps someday he’ll blaze a trail through the snow with a snowblower.
Or maybe he’ll just give up and move to Florida.
Copyright 2013 Audrey Kletscher Helbling