Driving today in powdery, blowing snow and strong wind, I was mesmerized by the whispers of snow swirling on the mostly-clear road. The snow snaked down the highway, moving in from every direction, twisting, insidious. It didn’t seem to be sticking to the pavement; instead, it curled down a straight road, destination unknown.
The road is straight. It has a center line and white lines. It’s clearly defined and easy to follow, but the snow paid no attention to the lines. It spun down the road, sometimes caroming from one white line to the other, sometimes crossing the white line to dance with the ditch. The snow had zero regard for the center line, much less the no-passing line. The snow was the embodiment of wind today.
It’d be easy to blame the snow, but the snow shifted at the mercy of the wind. Today, the snow let us see the wind.
And the wind? Well, we can’t stop the wind.
We can hide from the wind — find shelter — but we can’t control the wind. On days like today, the shelter wouldn’t be reliable; the wind came from all directions, changing without signaling.
Before I even left my house, I could hear the wind sending out its warning howls.
“Today, I am fierce. Today, you cannot hide. Today, I will have my way.”
It happens.
I feel like the snow many days, and I’m not alone. We humans get cocky and think we are in charge. Days like today, times like we are living, are refresher courses. Our world is far beyond our control. Covid. Death. Winter. School. Work. Hugs. Nothing is normal. Nothing is quite as it should be. Nothing is fully sheltered from the wind that is our world. Nothing.
Right now, the wind is fierce and it is winning. Hiding is pointless.
But this storm will pass. The road will be clear, free from the shape-shifting snow. For now, we have to survive the storm.
Woods Writes 