Chapter 24 - The Winter Snowfall
The first heavy snowfall of the winter semester blanketed the Hartwell State campus in a pristine, glittering white quilt. Walking across the quad on a freezing December morning, my breath plumed into tiny clouds of vapor in the crisp air.
As I approached Whitmore Hall, I noticed a familiar figure struggling with a heavy bag of rock salt near the entrance steps. It was Curtis, battling a stubborn bag that refused to tear open properly.
Without hesitation, I dropped my heavy academic briefcase onto a dry bench, walked up the steps, and grabbed the corner of the plastic bag, ripping it open cleanly with a practiced, efficient motion.
Curtis looked up, blinking snowflakes out of his eyelashes, and burst into a hearty laugh. "Guess you can take the girl out of the custodial crew, but you can't take the custodial crew out of the girl."
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"Never forget where the floor starts, Curtis," I smiled, grabbing a scoop and helping him scatter the salt across the icy steps to ensure the arriving students wouldn't slip.
As we worked side by side in the freezing morning air, I felt a deep, enduring sense of peace. My academic success, my published papers, my NSF fellowship, and my faculty office were all incredible achievements—but they were built on the unyielding work ethic, resilience, and humility I had forged during my years on the cleaning crew. I was an economist, a researcher, and a scholar, but I would always be proud of the hands that kept the lights on.
