Memoirous

We were forewarned—sort of. No one, not even Consumer’s Energy, the Meridian Township streets and san, the befuddled weatherperson. No one could predict how much ice or snow or wintry mix. They used a combination of all three when describing the possibilities. I was off work babysitting. I took Jack out in the morning to a park. My phone said 30 degrees, I paid little attention to the fine print (feels like 20). We were okay for the first 20 minutes, but on the walk home he cried. His little hands were cold. When we got home he crawled over me on the couch looking for pockets of warmth. Poor fella. But, outside I could hear pellets hitting the roof and windows. The ice accumulated on the back decks. The wood was like an ice skating rink. I felt like a tight rope walker seeking balance on a flat surface. My daughter came home from work early. We watched a movie with mugs of hot tea. There was no more going outside. Even before going to bed my boss texted we’d be closed. Whew! I wo...