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It was an early snowstorm. The kind that disappoints trick or treators everywhere. Costumes are dragged through the slushy stuff of snow; more than a foot of heavy snow that year. It started late on Saturday, and continued all night long. I awakened in my trailer to the blue-white light of a winter wonderland.
I had to get to work. I did computer work at church between the morning and evening services, and I knew that digging myself out would be up to me especially since I had uninvited Steve from my life. Plus, he and his kids were staying overnight at the nearest Holidome, which was about 45 minutes away.
After a hot shower, (thanks to Steve), I started laying out J.’s clothes for church and figuring out what I’d wear while shoveling. I stumbled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee so that it would be ready when I came back in.
I squinted in the early morning light. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? Was that my car, already scraped and ready to go? What was that brown and red thing on the hood? Forgetting the layers I’d assembled for my task, I threw on my jacket and boots. My eyes smarted from the dazzling sunshine on the snow. Someone had indeed dug me out! And the item on my hood? A stuffed animal holding a note.
I hope you aren’t angry, but I couldn’t sleep this morning knowing that you’d have to shovel all of this heavy snow yourself.
A swirl of emotions twirled their way around my insides. My heart melted a fraction at his kindness. Steve had driven an hour and a half round trip to make sure I could make it to work.
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