I live in Boston, and guess what - it’s snowing. Again.  I know, right?  Some parts of town are pretty well cleared, but our little neighborhood has sidewalks the width of the shovel with 6 ft high drifts on both sides. The terrain isn’t fit for stroller or for sleds. So I carry Noah, my 3-year-old son.

Yesterday, as I was walking to preschool pickup, I was whining in my mind about how hard this was and how tired I felt. My back tightened in anticipation; it has been intermittently painful for the past 3 weeks.

As I walked and I mind-bitched, I was remembering the work that we did last week, in a class with my teacher (who is equal parts therapist, teacher, guru, and tiger). A fellow student was in severe back pain following a fender bender. As my teacher worked with her, it became apparent that the pain might be related to the emotional distress of being abandoned at the scene of the accident. As she found a way to release and express that emotional pain, her back pain improved dramatically.

I was texting my friend Kristen a picture of the state of our sidewalk, so I could feel like she was walking with me. Her response was something to the effect of “You are a badass!”

Lightbulb.  What if…..

I thought of all of us in Boston who still CHOOSE to bring our kids to school and go to work despite the irritating conditions. We are warriors!

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The sidewalks are messy, the trains are late and overcrowded, people are edgy, and it’s snowing AGAIN. Yet…...the warriors:

  • The father who brought books on the train to read to his two-year old in case they were stuck.
  • The woman who held my stroller so I could carry my youngest out of the crowds.
  • The mom who pushed her twins in the double stroller from East Boston, with the snow shovel hanging out of the bottom section (“just in case”). 

Fucking Badass WARRIORS of the Snowpocalypse!

As I walked, I suddenly felt my hips moving back and forth in a way they haven’t in weeks. Am I sauntering right now? I felt a rush of heat to my low back as the tension released. In that moment when I chose "Warrior" over "Victim", the back pain was gone. Instant. Gone.

Today, rather than mindlessly passing him my iPhone, I’m bringing a book to read with the littlest on the train. Connection happens in these moments together.

Big Thanks to the warrior father on the train for the reminder.


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