The only time I like better than winter is early spring, when the trees and flowers are just barely coming back to life. When the sharp little buds are forming on the trees and tentative bunches of grass start peeping through the crispy, freeze dried lawn. When the tightly curled purple fingers of the hyacinths start stretching into bloom after their long winter hibernation. I love the anticipation that spring brings with it.
But I also really love winter. I don’t mind being cold. I love to bake bread and cookies. I love to make the old standby comfort food dinners. I love the holidays. I love snuggling on the couch under blankets watching movies. I don’t even mind shoveling snow.
But today I was reminded of what I really, really don’t like about winter. Ice. The driveway at my parents’ house gets enough sun to turn the buildup of ice to slush, but not enough to actually make it go away. So it slushifies then freezes solid again every day slowly turning itself into a super smooth skating rink. A slick death trap that The Girl and I have to walk across to get to my car.
The Girl went down on the ice a couple of days ago and sliced her hand open. And since then we’ve been moving very slowly across the slippery expanse between the door and my car. But today as I was closing her door after having shepherded her to safe ground, the force required to shove the door closed knocked me off balance and down I went. I can’t remember the last time I slipped on ice and went all the way down. It happens so fast!
I reached out to catch myself and seriously jammed my wrist and bruised the heel of my hand and then landed on my ass. And I immediately burst into tears. Sitting there, in pain, my butt getting soaked, sobbing. Pitiful. But I managed to haul myself up and get the groceries in without further incident.
Don’t you just love those momentary reminders that even when you’re brimming with confidence you can still end up flat on your ass in a heartbeat?
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