Just now I was driving home from a night of good company and comfort food (thanks Zion), and saw an entourage of flashing lights coming from the hospital parking lot. As I got closer, I realized it wasn't a group of emergency vehicles, but rather about a dozen snow plows and trucks clearing out the parking lot.
A large gravel truck topped full of snow pulled out in front of me, and I followed it for about a block. It pulled into a field where several more tractors were piling the snow into a miniature Mt. Fugi. (sledding anyone?)
Maybe it was the fact that I have had too much time to think without my kids to distract me, or maybe it was the creepy organ music I was listening to (what is it about organ music that makes it inherently creepy?), but the whole scenario caught me off gaurd. I mean, when I go to park in the morning, I take it for granted that the lot will be plowed. Quite frankly, I'd get a little grumpy if it were not. But I was sure feeling grateful that I wasn't the one spending her Sunday night working in the dark and cold (thanks again Zion).
So I guess this is my slightly romanticized thank you to all those who keep our streets and communities up and running.
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