The first storm.

I don't know how come the power is still on. The wifi is still pretty fast too, even though the wind is so strong outside. The house creaks. It sounds as if fifteen snow blowers were right outside. I can feel the breeze sneaking in through every window. Close the shutters - that's a good idea. Stay by the heater - an even better one. That's it. If only I hadn't just been invited to go play cards. Oh well.

To go outside, I have to push on the door with all my weight. Making it to the car is an adventure in itself. I'm already covered in a good 2 inches of snow, and I have to swipe twice that layer from the windshield. It's cold, and I already regret going out. Waves of snow rush across the road, I can't see a thing. I drive slowly. In the Magdalen Islands, snow tends to fall horizontally. It's no make-believe, I swear it does.Snowflakes are travelling from left to right, just as my wipers. I stay calm - everything is going fine.

Strangely, it makes me feel very close to nature. It's like an endless tug-of-war that I'll never win. There's also a touch of beauty in this infinite white. As if being part of a painting. A painting in which the artist would've optedfor a big blotch of red - my car - in the middle of all this white. A painting with a name like Taking Risks, or Bad Idea, or The Newcomer.

I make it safely to my friend's home. The hot herbal tea is wholeheartedly welcomed. We play cards without a care for the outside turmoil. It's warm. We laugh loudly. The storm is even prettier from the inside.

When it's time to head back, I gently push the gas, just enough to... well, just enough for my car to get stuck in the huge snowbank that has piled up behind it. And I'm shovelling. For an hour. In the dark. In the snow. When I finally get back home, exhausted and on edge, the storm is still in full swing. It's going to be a long night. I wake up every few minutes, wondering if my car has already been blown away. The wind is so strong that I hardly dare to peak through the window. Having barely slept, I start the day trying hard to keep both eyes open. The first thing I'm told is that “how strange, we didn't get the huge storm we were expecting.” And that's when it hits me: I'm definitelynot from around here.

I eventually got used to the storms. I still find them as beautiful. The wind helps me sleep; I like how it rocks me from the inside. I've also learned to stay home when the sky turns all white.