I wake up from a deep sleep to the terrible buzz of the intercom. I drag myself out of bed already in a foul mood. It's been a rough night (I turned off the TV around 3 a.m.) and I could have slept peacefully for a good hour, but then, ding, ding. Shoot the installer. Yawning, I put on the coffee pot and return to the bedroom. I instinctively turn on the TV and jump under the still-warm duvet, adjust the pillows, and a moment later I'm off to make coffee with milk and sugar in my favorite mug. With the hot drink in hand, I climb into the large bed, sip the coffee, and eat cookies, watch the news, and a movie. A repeat of the evening.
Hmm... Finally, the mug is empty, the cookies devoured, I get up lazily, raise the blinds
, and can't believe my eyes. How much snow? I rub my eyes. Am I still dreaming? (No, I'm not dreaming anymore) 30 cm of snow outside, white everywhere. I glance behind my poor car: some rascal has ripped off my mirror. I'm starting to get quite nervous. White, powder everywhere, and it's still snowing, a guy is smashing a wall, a broken mirror, and I have to go on the road to take care of urgent business. A quick shower, makeup, haircut, dressing, I load some papers into my briefcase, add my laptop, and I'm off. I leave the house on the staircase, pass the mechanic – they'll be new doors. Horrible, the old ones were fine (I smile to myself).
I get in the car, start it, and clean the windows. In a moment, my poor car is warm. I put it in first gear and drive away. The black road stretches on, and the radio plays soft music. It's warm, so I drive slowly. I drive along and can't believe my eyes: a white road, small snowdrifts in places, more and more cars in front of me. How on earth? No one was driving in front of me, and now one, two, three, everyone slowing down and braking constantly. The journey begins to drag, but that's okay, the important thing is that it's warm and calm. Finally, the traffic jam clears. I'm driving at a leisurely 60, 80 km/h. I enter a wooded area. White trees line both sides of the road. They look so beautiful. It's almost a shame I have to keep going.
I'm almost to Połczyn. Another two kilometers and I'm there. I park the car, grab my computer and paperwork, and rush to the meeting. Oh my, I'm already late because of this white powder. The clients are waiting patiently at the agreed-upon location. The discussion is heated, no one wants to give an iota. After two hours of discussion, we sign the contract. We go for coffee. The snow doesn't stop falling; on the contrary, it's falling harder and heavier! As I sip my hot coffee, I steal a glance at my watch—it's almost 4 p.m. (I'm so eager to get home. I'm mentally planning what I'll do when I get home). My companions say something to me, and I just smile and nod. The moment of parting arrives; the gentlemen kiss my hand with their natural gentleness, and I smile. I say goodbye, "Goodbye," and leave.
With each step I get closer to my car, and I'm more and more happy. The road is before me again, the music again. I start the car, and I can't get it up the hill, I can't move. I ask the men for help – none of it even wants to move, let alone get it up the hill. The men help me as best they can, I start from second gear, and the men push, but it just rolls backward. The car won't go up the white slope. But we smile, it's nice, and we joke around. A woman watches us trying to get up this tiny hill, and after a few minutes she comes with a bucket full of ash. We sprinkle snow, and the struggle begins again. More and more people approach. They wonder: will it go up or not? The men are still waiting, tight and ready to help. I start shifting into first gear, quickly downshifting to second. I'm driving, driving, and I'm already at the top of such a tiny, yet so burdensome, hill in winter, when there's snow on it. (I'm wondering in my heart what the road crews are doing, why aren't they shoveling the road and spreading sand?) I've driven up the hill, happy, and I don't even notice the snow is getting heavier. I get out of the car with a broad smile on my face and sincerely thank everyone for their help.
Now only 68km and I'll be home. The ride begins calmly. You can see the gritters constantly passing by, spreading sand and raking away the mounds of snow that were already forming drifts. I'm about twenty km past Połczyn and what do I see? A white road and a car in a ditch. A woman is behind the wheel. A thought races through my mind: "Should I stop? Ask if she needs help?" With a flick of her leg, she stops the car and I approach the injured woman. The poor woman is shaking and muttering something very indistinct. "
Good morning. Are you feeling alright?" (I ask the woman, wanting to strike up a conversation, to connect with her.) The woman raises her tearful eyes, already red from crying. She looks at me, so I continue.
"My name is Gabi," Gabriela says. (She just looks at me and sobs.)
"I was driving so slowly, so calmly. I didn't know I'd skid!?" she said with trembling lips.
"But dear lady, the winter caught everyone by surprise. The important thing is that you're okay. Can I help you with anything?
" "No, nothing, thank you. I've already called my family; they'll be here soon and help me get out of here."
Meanwhile, other drivers have stopped to help, and without waiting for the reaction of the still-crying black woman in the Daewoo, they hooked ropes and pulled her car out of the ditch.
After making sure Małgosia, for that's her name, was okay, I left her some mints and a bag of sunflower seeds, got into my poor car, still without a mirror, and drove home. The road in the forest had turned white again, and those trees looked so divine. I wasn't in a hurry to get home anymore. I was driving slowly, not rushing at all (whatever, let them drive), I was almost home. I parked the car by the window, unloaded everything, and a few more meters and... Well, that's it – a setback. New door, no key, I called the neighbors. I opened the apartment, it was warm and cozy. I took off my shoes, hung my coat on a coat rack, and threw away all my belongings. It was so nice to be home. In the bathroom, I filled the bathtub with water, made a lot of bubbles, and in the meantime, I lit a fire in the fireplace in the living room and disappeared behind the bathroom door. A bath after such a hard day always helps me relax and de-stress. If I were Małgosia, I could be in a ditch, even though I've been driving for so long and can say I'm an experienced driver. All my muscles are starting to relax. I rinse the suds off my body with the shower head without drying myself, put on my robe, and in my warm slippers, I head to the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate. It feels so good. I turn off the kitchen light. I enter the now warm room, light a scented candle, turn on some soft music, and sit down in front of the fireplace. The embers are so pleasant. Sparks pop and dance from time to time. I'm running out of chocolate, or should I get up for another cup of this wonderful drink?
But fatigue and laziness take over. I don't get up from my bed, listening to the music and staring into the fire, my thoughts swirling in my head, and I fall asleep.
In my sleep, I keep repeating one sentence:
Will winter always surprise us?
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