Snow Days with Myopic Degeneration
Looking back on my growing up years (something I do a lot in now that I am retired), seeing the snow coming down would be so exciting.
Wondering how much snow would we get, would they call school off, and was it going to be good packing snow, these would all run through my mind as I watched the ground begin to be covered white. My sisters and I would all bundle up. Ready for a wintertime adventure. Even now, all these years later, I still have sweet memories of those days.
Often times I would find myself struggling to even see, glasses fogging up constantly. Then, if the loss of vision wasn’t enough, the reality of the bone-chilling cold would set in. Building that snowman seemed to take way longer than I wanted, the sledding down that steep hill turned out to scare the bejesus out of me, and I could not feel my extremities after a shorter and shorter period of time in the snow.
A snow day adventure was not what I had anticipated all along.
Snow days as an adult
With fifty years plus having gone by since I experienced those snow days adventures, I find I have a very different perspective.
When our kids were younger, it was their turn to watch the accumulations, the school cancellations, and plan out their day of fun (at least, that is, until they were tuckered out by the looming frostbite). Their possibilities, limitless in the planning of their fun filled days.
Of course, I always thought I had the better vantage looking out from the inside, out of the cold.
Retirement and empty-nesting puts yet another perspective on these now dreaded snow days.
I have no time strict schedule to follow, with my workdays long over, so I can isolate in my warm cozy home and watch the snowflakes as they continue to reach a level we have not seen in quite a few years. The gloomy grayness setting quite a tone for days on end.
An obscured view
It is in this grayness that I struggle again. Not only is it just dismal and blah, I find myself peering out, looking for the hidden outlines of the houses around me. The houses, snow covered blending into the likewise snow filled skies.
Their edges obscured by the myopic degenerated view, taking away their definition. Creating a feeling of roofless homes on this cold winter day. The trees lose their definition, their gray limbs blending in with the dull skies, seeming more like wispy strands of twine blowing in the wind.
The row of shrubbery lining our walkway appears to be disoriented branches of misplaced hedges, swarming along the edges of the sidewalk. Our mailbox loses its definition, instead looking like a squiggly line, matted by a snowy outline. Even the new falling snow changes with this myopic altered view. Its descent appearing as a gentle smearing of the world beyond, further obscuring what is already (for me) obscured enough.
Yes, these snow days have been beautiful, frustrating, tiring, depressing, exhilarating and seemingly, endless. I feel fortunate to be safe, in a warm home as the world outside scrambles to repair the damage caused by the extreme cold. Some parts of our world struggling just to have power for heat and electricity, and clean water, while I am well provided for.
As I look outside my window yet again, I am grateful for the chance to see my peaceful snow day, even with this eye of mine. Because for some people, in other parts of our country, looking at the damages caused by these snow days with two healthy eyes can be even harder. The difference in experience really puts these Snow Days in a different viewpoint for me.
Do you rely on food and nutrition to slow down the progression of MD?