Snowy day, Not Snow Day

Two of the most glorious words in the English language, if you grew up in New England, are Snow Day! If there was a storm, we jumped out of bed, ran to the window, and hoped that the white ensemble worn by the trees, lawn, and pavement was enough to cancel school. We sat in front of the TV or radio and waited for the cancellation list to be announced. The city we lived in began with B, so we were close to the list’s start. If you missed it, you had to wait for the C towns, D towns, N, S, and Y towns till they ran it again!

When “No School in Brockton” was announced, we let out a whoop! In high school, I’d climb back into bed and fall back to sleep thrilled I had another day to study for my Latin exam! In elementary school, a perfect day would start with a bowl of Life Cereal and Leave It To Beaver reruns.

Snow pants, coats, and boots made us teeter through the snow to make angels, snowmen, and snowballs. After my dad and brothers shoveled the driveway, there were two perfect snow mounds left at the bottom for making forts and tunnels.

After the plows came, the hill on our street was full of children whizzing down on their wooden Flexible Flyers with the bright red runners. We went home for lunch soggy and cold, our faces bright red. After a Campbell’s Soup lunch, the seemingly endless afternoon stretched out with so many possibilities.

We had a perfect snowstorm this week (about 17 inches in my town). With COVID-19, however, my child’s school is working with a hybrid remote schedule. That means that those scheduled to be in the building can simply stay home, and everyone goes to school on computer. I know we will be happy in June when we don’t have to go extra days, but we missed the gift of a sudden day off.

After Hubby and I cleared the snow, we did come in soggy, tired with red faces. I made soup and lit a fire where my child and I worked for the afternoon. Although cozy, it still wasn’t the same.


I’m in my 50s, my child will be in high school next year, and any care-giving responsibilities have ended. So now what?

I was the youngest in my family by a fair amount and had my daughter at almost 39. So my life was the definition of “The Sandwich Generation.” I had a toddler, a mother, and a maiden aunt to look after (My dad died young of Cancer).

After my mom died, my dad’s sister began to show signs of Vascular Dementia. For about 5 years I was her primary caregiver. Those years were crazy! After my aunt passed away, I struggled for a while about what I was supposed to do. I did a few things in the theater. Then Covid-19 hit and we were stuck at home. I felt completely useless.

I figured out that this is a great time of life. I can do whatever I want. I can be whoever I want when I grow up. So I choose to be a writer. I have wanted to write more for many years, but didn’t have the time to dedicate to really learning how to do it well.

So now in 2021, I am declaring myself a freelance writer (already have a couple of gigs) and an aspiring author.

I write about caring for my aunt with dementia and am working on some sort of book around the topic of caregiving.

I also have some fiction nuggets that have been rolling around in my head for many years. Now I hope to develop and write these stories down.

Other things I like to write about:

  • Crafts
  • Parenting
  • Staying happy and positive while living with depression and anxiety
  • Growing up in a big, Irish Catholic family
  • The perils of being a newbie writer
  • The performing arts

Any other topics you would like to see? Drop me a comment below and let me know.

Thanks for stopping by! Here’s to a happy and healthy 2021 to all!