CityView Magazine

16 | July 2020 M y love affair with the great indoors began when I was 4 years old. at winter, there was a heavy snowfall in my hometown, something we rarely experienced. We couldn't drive to the grocery store because of the bad road conditions, so my father opted for a family stroll to the store, a distance of only four blocks. Four blocks doesn't sound like a long distance, unless you are a little girl wearing her older sister's hand-me-down boots, which were much too big, and you are tromping through deep snow. en, walking four blocks becomes the equivalent of scaling Mt. Everest. Just when I thought the frigid temperature was my only problem, I discovered that my feet were getting wet as the snow filled up my boots and melted, making my feet feel like two giant ice cubes. I don't remember what we bought at the store that day or the walk home. I only remember sitting in front of the fireplace in our living room hoping to regain some feeling in my frozen feet and thinking that a snowy day was best appreciated indoors while sipping hot chocolate. Convinced that being cold and wet was the worst possible condition a person had to endure, I discovered the following summer on our family beach trip that being hot, sunburned and covered with sand was far worse. We normally spent about two hours on the beach in the morning and another two hours in the aernoon, so by the end of the day we were exhausted. I remember one day in particular when I spent most of the day building a huge sandcastle. When I began my trek home, I discovered, to my dismay, that there was more sand in my bathing suit than in my sandcastle. Needless to say, it was a long, uncomfortable walk home. e uncomfortable walk home was soon replaced with an even more uncomfortable bath time during which I sat in the tub. I was alternately crying from fatigue and shivering from sunburn, thinking how much more I would enjoy the ocean if I experienced it exclusively from the front porch of the cottage, especially with a glass of ice-cold lemonade in my hand. At the ripe old age of 4, I was beginning to notice a pattern in my interactions with Mother Nature. Fast forward a few years, and the nature- challenged child became a brave (or foolhardy) teenager eager to waterski with her friends. For those who know me well, like my daughters, the thought of me attempting to waterski elicits uncontrollable laughter. ey could more easily envision me as an astronaut tethered to a cord floating in space than on skis behind a boat. But I skied. In fact, I skied all aernoon, even summoning the courage to hold onto the rope with just one hand and wave to my friends with the other. I never fell into the water, which was a good thing, since we later found out that the section of the lake where we were skiing was located over a nest of water moccasins. Whether we were just lucky, or the snakes were too busy laughing at me to bite me, I will never know. I only know that Mother Nature was once again trying to teach me the wisdom of a life lived indoors. It was Mother Goose, not Mother Nature, who taught me my most unforgettable lesson about the dangers of leaving my house. I had taken my young daughters to a lake to feed some ducks, something they loved to do, and I inadvertently walked too close to a goose that was out with her own offspring. When I invaded her territory, she began to chase me, spreading her wings so that she looked bigger than she really was. Just in case her physical aggression wasn't threatening enough, she also hissed loudly at me. Somehow, I managed to grab my daughters and run to my car, the goose behind me most of the way. When the girls and I were safely inside, my adversary glared at me one last time as she turned around and waddled back to her family. When the COVID-19 lockdown came, I was ready. I had been preparing for this event my entire life. While others worried about surviving a mandatory stay-at-home order, I couldn't have been happier. Of course life is better indoors! While in my house, I have never had to deal with a case of frostbite or sunburn, a water moccasin or an overly protective mother goose. So, find a cozy chair, crank up the Mozart, crack open some Jane Austen, and let the real adventure begin. Mary Zahran, tucked away safely at home, can be reached at maryzahran@ gmail.com. SOMEDAY YOU'LL THANK ME I'm An Indoor Girl By Mary Zahran While in my house, I have never had to deal with a case of frostbite or sunburn, a water moccasin or an overly protective mother goose.

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