Driving home today from Boardman, I ponder how many Fridays before Christmas have been like this. A day with extra visits, a trip to the office for the missed Christmas party, a late admission because no one in the office realized she had dialysis today. Couldn't push the admission off for the already crowded weekend.
The day, gray and blowy over flat Trumbull County farm country, delivering little of that predicted drifting snow. As my day ends at four thirty, the grayness dissolves into wet snowy darkness with the lights of Youngstown glowing. The by-pass reflects black, as I travel north on the freeway, the road begins to turn a slushy white.
The black rain, undecided to be snow, still reminds me winter knocked on our door today and we had to answer. The white Christmas people elated, unless they have those journeying home. Then it could wait. The traffic slows and I wonder if a wreck is ahead. No, just jitters filtering in with the first suggestion of a strong snow. Then two patrol cars with flashing blue lights point out a car in the grass, with tracks behind it, showing a horseshoe, as it faces the oncoming traffic.
How many Fridays I've seen like this, tired, thinking of the paper, then computer work weighing the ride with anxiety. The darkness closes in as the Christmas songs wrap themselves around in the car. I'm glad to go home, yet always wishing it could be earlier.
This year, though, I'm not anxious. The wonder of Christmas, the peace of Christmas, the yoke of Jesus is upon me. And yes, I'm glad the snow waited till the city of Sharon to increase, making Highland Road a reminder of treacherous roads to come. Soon, I'm home with visitors being enjoyed by my family, Mary Ellen already off to her Christmas party. I stay home now, praying until my daughter comes home, as the snow falls making inches quickly.