There are days when the weather wins. Yesterday was one of those days.
It started like any other winter afternoon. Around 3 PM, I began my usual routine of getting ready to pick up my son from the bus stop. I always try to meet him there so he doesn’t have to walk alone or face the cold—it’s one of those little things I can do to make his day a little easier. But yesterday, “little things” turned into a big ordeal.
The weather had been relentless. The wind was howling, snow drifts covered the roads, and our driveway hadn’t been plowed or shoveled. Keeping up with snow removal had become almost impossible, especially with my three-year-old at home. She insists on being with me through everything, and getting outside to tackle the snow while juggling her needs feels like an Olympic sport. I’ve tried bundling her up and bringing her outside, but she hates her snowsuit. She’d rather wear her light fall jacket and wrap up in a blanket. Cute? Yes. Practical for this weather? Absolutely not.
Still, we managed. I got her settled, bundled myself up, and headed out. That’s when the trouble began.
Around 4 PM, I was working on trying to get my van unstuck from the driveway when another driver in a truck tried to go around my stranded vehicle. And, you guessed it—he got stuck too. The maintenance crew had just come through, clearing the corner of the park where we live, and the driver of the tractor stepped out to help the truck driver. Meanwhile, I was still stranded, spinning my wheels and feeling the frustration rise.
By about 4:30 PM, my wife got home. She saw the van sitting halfway between the driveway and the road but didn’t seem to realize it was stuck until I waved her over to park in her spot. When she got out of the SUV and came over, that’s when it clicked. Somewhere in this mix of chaos, two more men—the truck driver and the maintenance worker—joined in to help us get the van unstuck.
We tried everything. Snow melt was spread near and around the tires to get traction, but it didn’t work. I pulled out a couple of boards, thinking they might give the tires something solid to grip, but no luck there either. Meanwhile, all four of our kids had made their way home from the bus stop, walking through the cold because I couldn’t get to them. I kept going in and out of the house, trying to manage the kids inside while also figuring out how to get the van free. My wife stayed outside, determined and resourceful, chipping away at the problem and coming up with solutions of her own.
At one point, she grabbed a couple of mats from our stairs and tried using those under the tires for traction. That didn’t work either. Finally, she started turning the wheels as far as they’d go and digging out the snow from behind them. It was a slow, painstaking process, but she wouldn’t give up.
By 5:40 PM, as the last light of the day was fading, we finally managed to get the van back into the driveway. But I didn’t feel relief. I felt angry. Frustrated that the roads in our corner don’t get cleared as often or as quickly as the rest of the park, which always seems to be a higher priority. I get it—it’s just my wife and I and our one neighbor in this far corner. But still, it feels like we’re an afterthought.
And then there’s the matter of my mother-in-law’s boyfriend. He has a plow attached to the front of his four-wheeler, something that could’ve made a world of difference. But it’s locked up in the shed while they’re off enjoying warm Arizona weather. It feels like we’ve been left high and dry to fend for ourselves through the winter, with nothing more than a casual, “See ya in the spring!” I haven’t even talked to them about how I’m feeling—they might find out through this post. Hopefully, we can come to some sort of arrangement while they’re so far away. We need something to get us through to spring safely. Next year, we’ll have to reevaluate our situation. We need more than just a snow shovel, especially knowing the resources are next door, locked up and unused.
I understand my mother-in-law’s boyfriend’s mindset. He was raised to believe that things you buy are yours, and you never lend them out because they might not come back in the same condition—or at all. But that doesn’t make this any less frustrating when we’re knee-deep in snow and feeling abandoned.
The thought crossed my mind more than once over the next few hours: sell everything and move. Find somewhere closer to family—a real support system that’s there for more than just eight months of the year. The idea of staying here, feeling so isolated, felt unbearable. By the time I went to bed, I didn’t feel determined. I felt defeated. Defeated and pissed off.
That’s the thing about days like this. They remind you that life doesn’t always go according to plan. Sometimes, the snowdrifts win. Sometimes, you’re stuck in the middle of the road with no clear way out. And sometimes, you’re left grappling with the realization that you’re more on your own than you’d like to be.
By the time I finally got back inside, the day’s chaos felt like a heavy weight. My son was home, safe and warm. My three-year-old was still wrapped in her blanket, completely oblivious to the drama outside. And me? I was exhausted. Frustrated. And wondering how much longer we could keep this up.
