Elizabeth Yeoman

The whole city glistened, alabaster white and silent except for the cheerful calls of people greeting each other as they snowshoed and skied around the neighbourhood, and the louder shouts of younger more daring citizens snowboarding down Holloway Street on what Drew Brown called “the island’s sickest ski jump.”1 For three days our neighbourhoods turned back into communities, people had time for each other and, well, a lot of people had a lot of fun. And then the cars were allowed back on the roads. Obviously, people had to get food and medical supplies and they had to get back to work. The nurses who did forty-hour shifts and the hotel workers who stayed on for days to look after people from out of town had to get home. Not every neighbourhood has a food store in walking distance and not everybody can walk even if theirs does. But that…

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