This polar vortex has me reminiscing.

One particular blizzard was bad. For multiple days I laid near the end of my bed that had a west-facing window. I watched the snow blow and make hills while an occasional car or truck or snowplow would make their way by. I would press my fingers into the frost that had collected on the windows and play with the worn headphone cord of my little handheld radio to make sure it was just so so latest pop and country hits would play in each ear.

I laid there for hours. Switching from staring out the window or the wall. Occasionally picking up a book to read. The wind whistled through the warped old windows loudly cutting through my tunes. A chance glance outside had me slipping headphones off as I watched figures struggle to move a stalled car in the southbound lane. Voices floated from up downstairs. Soon another figure joined them a few moments later all three of them headed towards the house.

I don't remember meeting these strangers. I heard the murmur of their voices from upstairs settling into the conversation as I settled back into my music that drowned out the whistle of the storm. Making sure I assumed my camouflage again. Quiet as possible never wanting unwanted attention. But I was always wondered why their kindness and clemency didn't translate to the kids that they adopted.