It seems we’ve been on the road for ages, bundled tight in our hats and scarves, and mittens that used to smell new but now have that faint odour of wet dog.
Our snow pants are ripped and don’t fit as well as they did in October, but mom refuses to waste money on new ones that we will most likely grow out of before they are needed again. Same goes for our boots.
We’ve only been on this journey, the same one we travel every year, for four months. But they are the longest, darkest months of the year.
And Mother Nature can be cruel. She gives us glimpses of how things could be; if only she would loosen her grip on the cold and let the sun do its job. Then she laughs as she sends us more snow.
I’m beginning to feel like this car. Buried in the snow. Plowed in until spring. Unless someone wants to expend some serious energy shoveling me out.