Today, in Rochester, we experienced “the snowstorm that never came.” The meteorologists have been talking about this storm for days. It was going to be so bad, so ferocious. Yesterday, everyone was in a kind of frenzy of anticipation, waiting to see this huge storm. Schools began announce at around 5:00pm yesterday that they would be closed today. Emily and Sam left the house at about 9:00 last night and I gave them stern warnings about driving slowly and staying put once the storm hit.
When we went to bed last night, there was still no storm. We thought that it was just a delay in the start time. We all went to bed, certain that we would face a world of wintry white when we awoke. My alarm went off at 6:00am and I immediately checked the school closing list to see if Ben’s school was listed. It was not. Poor thing, he would have to go to school. I looked out the window and saw that we had really only received a couple of inches overnight. I felt so disappointed. There is something about a big snowstorm shutting everything down that is so exciting. I don’t know if it is the memory of snow days from my own childhood or just the idea that nature is so powerful that it can still shut down our world for a day. Today, snowplows prevailed and the roads were relatively clear.
At 6:15, Ben received a text from one of his friends that their school was, finally, listed as being closed. He immediately went back to sleep. John was the next to discover that he had a snow day. His office was closed. I checked for my agency’s name on the list – no such luck. I would have to go in to work.
In a way, those of us who made it into work seemed to feel like warriors. “Oh, that storm was nothing,” we told each other. No reason for schools to be closed. We, the mighty, had conquered the winter and arrived safely at work. We mocked the storm. We remembered predicting that the storm would pass us by. We were not surprised at how weak it was by the time it reached Rochester.
Still, part of me wished the storm had been stronger. As I rode home from work, I remembered snowstorms from my childhood – snowbanks taller than me, taller than cars, towering over me. Snow days with sledding and snow angels, followed by a fire in the fireplace and hot cocoa and warm jammies. Today was not a snow day like that. It was not a snow day that made memories. Today was just the snowstorm that never came.