Mornings spent shoveling snow from my grandma's driveway began after my mom fell ill – my grandma, too stubborn to admit she needed help, made these early winter duties mine.
The biting air felt less sharp as I huffed against the wind, eyes on the task ahead, trying to find symmetry in uneven flakes. My shovel struck a buried rock once; I stared down at the mangled handle, then muttered something awkward, hoping Grandma was asleep inside.
The biting air felt less sharp as I huffed against the wind, eyes on the task ahead, trying to find symmetry in uneven flakes. My shovel struck a buried rock once; I stared down at the mangled handle, then muttered something awkward, hoping Grandma was asleep inside.
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