Waiting For the Slow
With rumours of an impending snowfall of significant amounts, I can’t help but think of my late grandmother on my Dad’s side. She spoke English with an unapologetic confidence using the few token words and phrases she knew of with reckless abandon. Referring to ‘snow’ as slow is one of her “isms” that I remember so fondly.
Well, I’m just dying for a huge dump of it. You know, a crazy slowfall where people have no choice but to sit by the fire – hot drink in hand and only think about the next something yummy to put in the oven. The kind of slow where a good board game or dvd await to entertain and a chenille blanket welcomes you on a comfy couch. Where being stranded is better than the ludicrous idea of getting into a car and where going out for a walk is a major event and other simple tasks yield infinite pleasure.
The reality is, it’s also hard to slow down in the slow. We’re jolted from our daily routines, our schedules are thrown off and somehow those same simple tasks can suddenly feel immensely cumbersome. Although I’m well aware that slow is not always about sparkly snowflakes and new red mittens, if it weren’t for this imposed down-time, I don’t think I’d ever stop.
Besides, imagine if you were my new student from Kenya. Imagine if you had never seen it before. I’m sure the piddly sprinkling of the white stuff over the weekend has left him smitten and completely spellbound.
I know my grandmother would be watching from the window with a piping cup of chai in her hand, applauding each and every snowflake as it danced gently to the ground.
Let it slow, let it slow, let is slow…