I thought I’d left behind the sub-zero temperatures when I moved from Wisconsin back to Oregon nineteen years ago. And I had, until this year. Not that it doesn’t get cold in Oregon, it does—but not usually where I live. Cold here means the thermometer is hovering around 25-30 degrees. But this year…
This year, things are a bit on the frigid side. The past week I saw a minus sign on the temperature WAY too much. Every day, I think. The coldest was -8, which for a lot of people, that might not be too bad but when I’m working outside, it’s COLD! Yes, I’ve been in much colder temps, even worked outside in them, but now that I’ve acclimated to a warmer climate, my body doesn’t deal well with weather that refuses to go above zero. Or, maybe I’m just older than I used to be.
If you saw last week’s post, you may remember I had a lingering cold, and I still do. It’s hard to get better with all the time I spend outside in this weather. Even when I get home from work, there’s shoveling to do.
But then, there is a bright side to all of my woes. My grandson loves to help grandpa shovel. Sometimes that means dumping a shovel full of snow on my head, or putting the snow back on the sidewalk I’ve just cleaned but the look on his face while he is “helping” makes it all worth it.
A few weeks ago, he was helping clear off the deck and behind me, I hear his sweet three-year-old voice say, “Grandpa, I’m really sorry. But, I love you.”
When I turned around to see what had happened, I was met by a huge snowball to the face. The light fluffy snow easily broke apart and found its way inside my coat and the filtered down my neck. I let out a gasp and after catching my breath, went inside to dry off and warm up. My grandson thought it was a slap-the-leg hilarious moment.
Yesterday, we were again shoveling off the deck and having learned my lesson, I didn’t turn my back to him. Of course, that didn’t deter the child. With no warning this time, he scooped up a shovel of snow and, as I’d taught him, threw it. Except it’s supposed to go over the deck railing. This particular shovel full came right at my head.
As I was trying to clean the snow off my hat and face and yes, down my neck again, I hear the little voice say, “Grandpa, do you remember that I love you?”
Yes, I did, I told him. In fact, I think I’ll remember he loves me for quite a while, probably every time I’m cold. And this year, that will be often. ~
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. Bruce A. Borders is a proud member of Rave Reviews Book Club.