Sherrie had just moved into a new neighborhood the last week of October that year. She and her husband were young and recently married, and she couldn’t wait to get to know the people around her. She thought she would go for a walk each day and try to meet everyone.
But having grown up in the South, she wasn’t ready for what happened the following week; the snow started falling. Sherrie thought it was beautiful and could hardly wait to try her hand at a snowball, sledding or the many other things she had heard so much about. She donned her coat and headed outside.
There wasn’t much snow yet, but she was able to make a snowball. That was when she realized how cold it was. It didn’t take long for the frigid breeze to drive her inside. She was still determined to get out and walk, but in her first attempt, she quickly realized that she didn’t want to get too far from home. A short walk was all she could endure before seeking warmth.
The cold drove the neighbors in as well, but not permanently. Most of them were older, and they didn’t seem too inclined to want to play in it. But they weren’t afraid to get out and work for hours in temperatures Sherrie couldn’t stand for more than about 15 minutes.
She decided she still should get some exercise, even if she couldn’t meet her neighbors. She decided she would go to the local YMCA and walk the small indoor track there. But it was freezing, and she thought she might wait until the snow and cold eased up. But it never did. The snow kept coming, and the temperatures kept dropping.
She couldn’t believe anyone would live in a place like this. Her husband had grown up there, and he didn’t seem bothered. He told her most people there were used to it. She felt trapped, like a caged animal, and she desperately needed to get out, even if to just go shopping. But the day she determined that cold and snow wouldn’t hold her back, the wind picked up, and suddenly, there were drifts across her driveway taller than her car. She felt like crying.
Then something else happened. Suddenly, one of her neighbors was clearing her driveway with a snowblower. She hadn’t seen such a machine before, and she watched out the window with great fascination. She and her husband only had shovels, and the snow hadn’t been that deep. But this machine was making quick work of the huge drifts.
When he finished, she felt a sense of relief that surprised her. She no longer felt trapped. Whether she stayed in or went somewhere, at least she could choose. And she did choose to go to the grocery store about 10 blocks away. After almost sliding through a stop sign, she decided that short distance was plenty.
When she got home, she felt much better, and her heart was filled with gratitude to the neighbor who had cleared her walk. She made some homemade bread, took a bottle of jam she bought at the store and bundled up as best she could. With the bread hot from the oven, she headed over to the neighbor’s house.
An older gentleman answered the door. She handed him the bread, and he thanked her. As he invited her in, he asked if she minded if he ate it hot right then. Sherrie assured him she didn’t mind and smiled as he led her back to the kitchen to meet his wife. They invited her to join them, and they all enjoyed a pleasant visit as they ate some bread and jam. But then, at one point, the woman asked Sherrie why she brought over the bread.
“It was my way of saying thank you to your husband for clearing the snow from my yard,” Sherrie replied.
The man shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”
Sherrie must have looked shocked because the man laughed. “All of us old guys bundled up for winter look the same.”
But Sherrie learned something else that day. She didn’t have to go somewhere to get out. A hot loaf of bread would get her out of the house and into a neighbor’s warm home where she could meet others. Besides, with all the different snow blowers that cleared her driveway that winter, she never knew which neighbor it was each time it happened. So, she just thought she’d say thank you to everyone.
Views expressed do not necessarily represent those of The SUN.
