Snow makes the city feel quiet. There aren't dozens of motocini buzzing past every other minute. The buses drive slower. Footsteps are muffled in the slush. People seem to whisper. The snow seems to cap the noise underneath it's heavy blanket.
I went to the grocery store yesterday. I could number the contents of our fridge on one hand. 3 of those things were condiments. There was a small group of people gathered outside, waiting for the doors to open at 9 am. I was one of the first people in the door.
There were maybe a two dozen liters of milk. One carton of ricotta cheese. Two packages of salami. A handful of produce offerings. A single 1 kilo bag of flour. The store was practically empty when it opened.
As I walked home I said a silent prayer of gratitude for the things I was able to buy, and then pondered how often I take it for granted that food is magically stocked at a store just down the street from my apartment. I also resolved to keep a small bit of food storage on our shelves. And to never leave town again without making a dinner and putting it in the freezer before I leave.
I think people in my stage of life (including me) think that food storage is a thing for when you're settled in a home you know you'll be in for more than 8 months, you have a pantry, you have more wiggle room in your grocery budget . . . but I learned over this past weekend that everyone needs to be prepared.
Had it not been from our next door neighbor, Ada wouldn't have had milk for her bottle (I never thought I'd regret weaning her by 12 months but there I was milkless, everything closed down, and nothing on the shelves).
I bought an extra can of corn today. Preparedness, I'm going to own you.