A cold blanket covers the ground in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Though I’m not there, I am not blind to the Facebook posts about (hopes of) canceled school and crazy drivers. I used to love the snow — waking up to the scrolling announcements on the TV screen, “Edmonds School District: Closed,” hurrying to dress in snow clothes, and running outside to make footprints in the undisturbed snow. I used to love the snow, but I as I grow up, all I want to do is cuddle up on the couch with some coffee and a good movie. Sure it’s beautiful, but it’s also cold. And I can’t stand the cold.
But there is one thing I do love about the snow: its ability to blur the lines.
When snow covers the ground, driving in the middle of the road becomes acceptable. Traffic laws are lost for a while, so long as you do what you can to stay safe.
Lines are blurred between strangers where strangers become neighbors and neighbors become old friends. Small talk on the bus connects once different worlds and laughter in the grocery store erases lines between guarded hearts. Neighbors help each other on the road where cars are stuck. Old friends bond over sledding and hours of lounging in front of the fireplace. Over hot chocolate, hearts are shared and relationships grow.
And time. One of the most difficult parts of North American culture for me is time. Americans are trapped by these lines. But when it snows, being late to work is acceptable, not showing up to class is excusable or encouraged, buses are late, or running on a different schedule. We run on a different clock when it snows. None of these times is considered “late” during snow. It is normal, acceptable, excusable, even welcomed.
It’s at a time like this when I wonder what other lines could be blurred? Or what other lines should be blurred? Maybe it’s time we started looking and start blurring so we can keep on loving like we were created to do.