This week has been bitterly cold, below zero every night. But there has been no snow, and so no snow monsters. This morning, it was warmer, all of 33 degrees out. But as my husband headed off to work, he said there would be a blizzard later. Keep the children at home. But when it was time to take them to school, the air was clear and the wind was warm. Perhaps there would be no blizzard, I thought. So I took them to school.
When I went out halfway through the morning, the sun was shining and the sky was blue. The dark clouds formed a wall around the valley, but they seemed even less threatening than they had earlier, even as they loomed against the blueness.
I hate living this way, never knowing if I am safe, if the children are safe, or if a moment of perceived safety would become a moment of ruin and destruction.
I decided not to run my errands, and get the children early from school. Just as we pulled in the driveway, the wind picked up, swirling snowflakes around the car.
“Run, run!” I shouted, and the children raced into the house and I began slamming shutters shut. The howling began, indistinguishable from the wind at first, and then louder and louder. The door slammed shut behind me with a clang. I turned the lock and ran down the stairs to the basement.
The children were crying. “Mommy, we thought the snow monsters got you!”
“No, no, not this time. They don’t want me, anyway. I’m too tough!” We laughed, and I hugged them closer.