A feeling of community

After waking up this morning to 36 fresh centimetres of snow on the ground, the idea of shoveling from the back porch to our parking spot was as unappealing as it was stressful. After all, I have Caribbean blood in my veins. Why do I have to do so much bloody shoveling this year? I should be chillin' on a beach sipping rum punch, watching the surf come in.

But my faith in humankind was redeemed when a whole crew of people came out to shovel all the cars out of our little Barrhaven parking lot. By helping each other we got it done faster, AND it was far more enjoyable. Neighbours laughed in between grunts, and I even made a Tim Hortons run to get donuts for everyone. Unfortunately, they'd finished the job by the time I got back.

Anyone want some donuts? I've still got way more than I can eat.

It's always when nature gives us a good solid taste of its power that people seem to pull together. I remember when I was a Queen's student during the Ice Storm in 1998. Everyone in my neighbourhood banded together to clear fallen branches and to clear alleyways so we could all get our cars out of the danger zone (I went back to my parking spot the next day and found a fallen birch where my car would have been if we hadn't gotten it out of there). I also recall unloading cots that were set up in the Phys Ed Centre for people who couldn't stay in their own homes. Though it was hard to believe we were living through a natural disaster that was news around the world, we all did our part to get through it.

And so, as I sit here warming my toes and anxiously waiting for a second night of spaghetti for dinner (God bless leftovers and lazy parents), I am thankful for a sense of community that saved my back from acute soreness and allowed me to find a tiny slice of joy in a snow-drenched Sunday.