On Snow and Adulthood

So I've been reading Steven King's Dreamcatcher, which is fabulous, and as you may or may not know, the snow plays a fairly major role in it. We also got a fair bit of snow here in the last couple weeks, and I didn't really connect the two things until the other day.

Toward the beginning of the book, Henry is walking back to Hole in the Wall (the cabin they stay in when the four go hunting in November), and makes a mental comment on how the snow, which has been falling heavily for  a while, is slowing down. That's followed by the thought that as a child, he and his friends would've been dismayed that is was "stopping."

I had a similar thought the other day when I let the dog outside. Everything was buried under at least six inches of snow, and it was still falling with the fat complacency of most heavy snow. My first thought at that point was something along the lines of, "Crap. Roads are gonna suck." My neighborhood never gets adequate attention during the winter, and since I live toward the top of a hill, driving is always kind of an adventure when there may or may not be ice all over the place.

I can't remember whether or not I had anywhere to go that day, but I presumably did in the near future.

I was immediately struck that not long ago, my first concern for that much snow would have been whether or not I'd have to go to school the next day. It was an interesting contrast for me, and it got me thinking about all the ways your perspective changes as you age. It's crazy to think back to my worries and focuses of the past, and what's insane is that you don't even notice them changing.

Or I didn't. Maybe you do.

I commented once in one of my journals that I knew things were changing, but I couldn't see it, and I compared it to watching plants grow and bloom; there's an obvious difference between the start and the finish, but you don't see every petal open.

It's one of the more profound things I said to myself in that time period XD

Anyways. Just a few quick thoughts. I may have to expand later on.