fireplace transplanted and still blooming cinthia milner

Introverted Snow Days

I like winter and I like snow. No, I’ve never lived in Minnesota or upstate New York, or I might be making a springtime playlist about now. But, right here, in Western North Carolina, snow means snow days. If you don’t know what that is, it’s a day off. This past February, it meant 2 weeks off. One of the best parts about living in a place with curvy, windy, mountain roads? It doesn’t matter what kind of snowplows you have, some roads will stay inaccessible. For school kids, that is happy news. I was that kid once, listening for the blessed proclamation on my transistor radio (with case), that Buncombe County Schools would be closed due to snow. And, I’m still that kid. I still love a snow day. I did when my kids were little, and snow boots and leg warmers littered my kitchen floor, and I do now when it means I’ll spend the day indoors alone, staring out the window at a world of white.

Is there anything more blessed than being stuck indoors, with a foot of snow outside, and nothing to do?

I realize that some of you might not approach a snow day as we introverts do, with utter happiness that absolutely nothing is expected of us for an entire day. It is truly a day we excel because there is no party to be the life of. As the girl at the eye doctor said when I told her I was looking forward to the upcoming snow storm, “Oh, you’re one of those.” Yep. I am.

For 365 days a year, I am forced out of my shell, and out the door (actually a place I love to be–outside–if it’s in the garden), to be around people. That was stressful for me as a third grader, and while, I’ve honed my social skills and social graces since that dreadful year (the year Adam Bengle stapled my dress to the chair, and somehow I didn’t notice until I stood up), I am still that geeky, nerdy, shy kid who finds herself wondering why in the world she said THAT. I do not mix and mingle well. Parties can still unnerve me, and schedules–that be here, now be here, sort of busyness Americans thrive on, can cause such indecisiveness in me that I’ve been known to cancel everything out of sheer confusion.

I was horribly shy in a family of extroverts, and a school full of future terrorists. A snow day meant no chores, no teachers boring me to death, and no navigating the lunchroom or playground. It meant time was all mine, that there was no one dictating where I should be when for one whole day. Snow days were not only eerily quiet all morning (until the neighborhood kids were released from their houses for sledding), which I loved, they were blessedly free of everything. Mom never insisted that chores be done. Dad went sledding with the kids, and for once, in my extroverted family, I was given permission to either join in on the bonfire and sledding, or stay in my pjs and read. I mostly read. Sometimes. I joined the sledding. But, it was seriously nice to be given a choice.

My mom, the woman who never met a stranger, once asked me if I needed “help” with my introverted ways. She was politely suggesting therapy. She’s not alone. Many an extrovert has quizzed me on my introverted self, trying to discern if I were sad or troubled because I preferred to spend the day alone rather than at say, Disney World. It was unfathomable to my mom that anyone would choose not to be the center of whatever crowd was around. Fortunately, all 3 of my other sisters fit that role beautifully, and they can navigate people like my Coastie Son can navigate a boat. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I explained to mom that there were extroverts and introverts, and it was OKAY. Introverts did not need to be fixed. (FYI: Mom loved me anyway.) Unbelievably, I recently explained the same to a friend who was convinced that as an introvert she needed to change.

Our society screws us up in more ways than fashion and body size.

But, it is nice to have a few extrovert friends thrown into the mix. If they’re good friends, they help move you through the muddy waters of a world where interacting with people is a must and locking yourself in your room would likely have you committed. But really. Why do we all want so much attention?

Perhaps one reason I work outside is that I still get snow days (and rain days!). The announcement comes via text now, not a radio, and it says “You’re flexed off,” which technically means, I’m not paid for the day. But, sometimes, a snow day is better than money.

Being a kid is just plain hard. Being a kid in school is even harder. Being a kid on a snow day is awesome. Being an adult on a snow day is still pretty amazing. It’s one day out of everyday that I am not faking it. I’m not pretending to be whatever it is people need me to be. Everything shuts down, and I am quiet. It’s the quiet that works in me. The quiet of softly fallen snow quiets the fears and worries in my brain–those fears and worries that never really seem to go away. I’m in my pjs reading a book, and all is right with the world. For one blessed day.

If you’re wondering if escape is my life’s theme, I suppose it sounds like it, but it isn’t. It’s the need to hear myself think for a day. It’s the need not to hear the world for a day. It’s the need not to rise to meet the challenges of the day. Big decisions can stay big decisions until tomorrow. If it needs to be figured out, I can figure it out tomorrow. My brain is on vacation, while I spend some quality time with my pjs and a good book. Permission is given by the sound of a radio, or the ding of a text, to take the day and let things be. Don’t misunderstand, I am happy when I conquer a challenge or rise to the occasion and make the tough decisions. All those things make me feel pretty good about myself, but every once in awhile, a girl needs a day when there’s no need for a hero. Her pjs are on. She’s under a pile of blankets, and a good book is in hand, (or a nap is taking place).

I’m told I am an INFJ on the Meyer’s Briggs. Supposedly, there are less than 1% of my personality type in the world. Maybe. Who knows? I don’t know how they measure such things. But, surely, there is more than 1% of the population that would like a day off. Surely, there is more than 1% that is rooting for a snow day. I know I am. I bought hot chocolate just in case.