This week is technically spring break. At the twins' school as well as John's and my office, the halls are deserted. Last Friday was the last gasp of exams, and therefore the date chosen months ago to fly out of Philly for dozens of our friends. One clump of students and faculty were poised to head to Italy, and the plans were laid to board a couple of buses and be in the air by sunset. 

But the sky had other ideas. 

The slushy snow gained momentum in the harsh wind, downing branches and trees all over the eastern seaboard. Many sycamores fell, probably because of the combination of shallow roots and wide branch systems heavy with accumulation. Roads were blocked, and power lines drooped, adding to the confusion of slippery asphalt. Hundreds of thousands of homes were without heat. One couple had an electric line fall across their car, making it impossible to go anywhere. Another had a tree topple across their driveway. People who had packed their kids and suitcases were caught in the maze of closures and stranded vehicles. One family ended up in a parking lot for two hours watching a movie before they gave up and went home. Two others whose flights were cancelled took charge of the situation and drove south, all the way to Florida.

But the Italian bound group were stranded. Those who live in the dormitories had to leave, blizzard or no blizzard, and were gathered up by locals. A girl came to our house to stay until the new departure date on Tuesday. 

The squall was short lived. By the next afternoon snow was melting, and it was a pleasant forty four degrees. Not a terrible situation to live through, electricity notwithstanding, if there were no dashed expectations to deal with. For those of us who had no intentions of being elsewhere. here was just fine. But if you had been anticipating a stroll in Rome with a gelato in your hand for the better part of a year, and forked out money to do so, being stuck at home wearing your coat inside is a let down. 

It's hard not to have expectations. They can be a gale force of motivation to get you through college, or the Mohave desert, or a root canal. You know it will be rough, and you prepare. Yet when you are hoping for something marvelous, like a trip to Florence, the ordinary circumstances of regular life turn bleak without changing one whit. 

I sincerely hope that the vacationers have a splendid trip. Maybe they will order a double scoop to make up for lost days. Come to think of it, maybe I will too.