Now I know many of you think I am nuts, but I love where I live. By all accounts it is a miserable day by most people's standards ... 15 degrees outside, several inches of snow on the ground, and roads sloppy with slush and snow. Every car I see is covered with a combination of dirt, grime, salt, and grey snow, muting their shiny paint jobs into something nondescript and dismal. We all trudge through an inch or two of new fallen snow from last night which has yet to be shoveled, most with our chins tucked into collars of jackets. And the kids are bundled in head to toe snow gear for the playground at school.
It is the time of year when I cannot keep my kitchen floor clean because some foolhardy builder did not see fit to place a mudroom coming in off of the garage and so one enters my house directly onto said kitchen floor. Despite my best attempts to have my family remove shoes in the garage this does not always occur, and I continually wage war with the outside mess that comes with winter. This combines with having no ideal place to put all of the wet clothing a five year old inevitably will bring indoors and promptly fling all over. Sigh.
Nevertheless. I love where I live, and this was demonstrated to me again in various little ways today as I went about my weekly errands. Like driving next to Lake Michigan with all the rugged ice shacks dotting the frozen bay, fisherman already sitting snug inside, while big, fat white flakes swirled around in the sky. I will never get tired of that view. Or perhaps pulling into the store parking lot in time to see a gentleman rescue a woman from what would have been a nasty fall in the slippery parking lot, by quickly grabbing her arm. I shared a laugh with them as I got out of my car and exchanged a few quips about "skiing at Walmart" minus the hill. Later, as I pulled out of the same parking lot I watched as another man, who had just pulled in, got out of his car, walked over to another and proceeded to open the door of a neighboring truck. To steal it? No, to shut off the headlights which must have been left on by its owner. Smiling to myself I watched as he anonymously did his good deed, shut the door, and walked into the store.
It is these little acts of kindness that are all around me on a daily basis that I love the most about living here. The fact that when I walk around my grocery store I exchange "Good Mornings" with over a dozen people even though I don't know any of them by name because people are just that friendly. Or that I can teasingly argue with the guy who bags my groceries about the upcoming Packers/Steelers Superbowl game and half the people around us will join in on the conversation. It is a wonderful community and perhaps nicest of all it reminds you that despite all of the not so beautiful news we see and hear all too often in the media, most people are good-hearted, honest souls. And couldn't we all use that reminder every now and again?
