NOW
I was at my dad’s house; he lives North of the city, far enough that the snow stays on the ground. I hadn’t seen this much all year, it was amazing. The ground had a thick layer of ice and snow, heavy and tough but workable. I’d been at the office all day; mentioning that I wanted to make some money, my dad said, “You can shovel the pathway, its hard work but I’ll pay you”. This sounded like a reasonable opportunity, so I said “Sure.” Leaving the office and heading to the parking garage, I had a plan.
Driving to the house with my sister Katie, I thought about the task at hand. It would be hard work, but it would be rewarding. I was going to make some money after all. The word that stuck out most in my mind was ‘dredge.’ It was a perfect description of the situation; if I was going to do it I might as well do it well while enjoying it.
We approached the house; Katie turned into the driveway and parked in front of the garage, we both got out of the car. Katie walked ahead; wearing tall black stilettos she sank into the snow. It was far too deep for such a tinny heel. She crept across the pathway, barley reaching the patio. She said, “These definitely aren’t the right shoes for this walkway.” We both laughed. It was entertaining and ironic, especially since my father had mentioned it 30 minutes earlier. Destiny was being manifested - maybe not - but I was seeing a practical application to my upcoming work.
Getting ready to go outside, putting on boots and a jacket, grabbing gloves and a hat. Outside walking around trying to find a shovel; searching the garage I discover some necessary tools.
Walking back to the pathway, I’m excited about completing the task; funny I haven’t even started yet. Using a large plastic shovel, I quickly discover it isn’t accomplishing anything. There is a layer of fresh snow, but just underneath it is hard compacted ice. Walking on it must have caused it to melt and transform it into ice.
Picking up a smaller shovel, it’s sharp along the edge and can break the ice; it seems better suited for the task at hand. Pushing it into the ground, the icy mess breaks apart. Cracks start to grow, and the light fluffy snow falls into the crevasses. I do this until all of the ice is broken, and then clear away the rest of the snow with the larger shovel. Working hard, I notice that there are large, flat, uniform chucks of ice being created. Maybe I can do something with these?
Collecting all the usable pieces and putting them aside, I continue to shovel the pathway. Once finished, I returned to my collection and look to see what I’ve found. There are actually quite a few nice pieces; there’s a lot of potential and I’ll be able to create something unique. I shave off the edges with the sharp shovel so that they will fit together better. Lining them up, they collectively look like a goldfish. Continuing to analyze the chunks I decide what I’m going to do and make a plan.
Grabbing a piece and walking towards the water pump, I place it upright, then push some snow around the base packing it; this will hold everything in place. Doing this two more times I create a base by aligning the sheets into a triangle. Placing a mammoth piece on top the first layer is complete. It’s a little crocket so I grab another chuck, it fits perfectly; everything is flat and ready for the next layer. The last piece is shaped like an isosceles triangle, trimming the bottom to make it flat, it fits perfectly.
I’ve completed my masterpiece and am quite impressed; it looks like one of those Inuit stone arrangements, an Inukshuk. I’m filled with a sense of accomplishment; I’ve done the job, worked hard and enjoyed it. Using the left side of my brain to reason and clear the sidewalk, then the right to create. I’ve destroyed and made something new all in a single task. I’m extremely satisfied and able to enjoy every moment. It was fun, ended up looking nice, and will be helpful to others.
I’m reminded of something I’ve heard recently; not knowing where it came from, it seemed to stick in my mind. It had something to do with overcoming an alcohol addiction. I thought for a second to verify my thoughts. ‘If you ask an alcoholic, ‘when was the turning point?’ and they can’t answer, then they haven’t overcome their addiction.’ This was like my situation; I’d been addicted to a state of mind and couldn’t see anything beyond it. I’d been stuck.
This thought reminded me of a situation from the past; I knew exactly what my turning point was. I remembered the time and the experience that made everything change. Well, maybe not everything, but something very important changed. Through it, I opened my eyes and my perspective was new.
Before everything was negative; it was always dark and blackness, there was never anything new. Afterwards, everything was new; I was positive and anything was possible. I was beginning to realize that changes needed to be made; I was finally growing up and watching it happen. It seemed that all of this positivity started to stem from one experience, the turning point.
