It was a good day. I could smell it in the crisp winter air as I walked outside: It was snowing. Snow is always a good thing, I've decided. Especially for a snowplough man like myself. I've always loved snow, ever since I arrived into this world on a crisp December morning, and it was snowing. So when I moved to Montreal and decided to become a snowplough man, no one was surprised.

I walked down the cold snowy road on my snowshoes toward the train station. It was 5:23 am but I knew I wouldn't be late. My boss stared at me when I arrived, apparently mad that it was 5:32 and I was 2 minutes late.

"This is the fourth time you're late, Joe," Max, my boss yelled. "Anymore wrongs you do to this city, and it will be your job. Now go! Go, get onto that snowplough and go your rounds."

I smiled at him, mockingly. "Yes sir." I never really liked Max. He never understood the concept of smelling the roses… or in this case, watching the snowflakes flutter in the wind. Snow has always been beautiful to me.

I took off my snowshoes, carelessly shoving them into my locker. I then walked slowly to my snowplough machine; it was a beauty alright. I've always wanted one of my own, and one day, I promised myself I would have one. I started down my usual route. Beaconsfield was my major area. I smiled at the children who were on their way to the park, and they smiled back.

That's when my snowplough drove up to a sight that I will remember for the rest of my life. It was a little boy, around the age of 12. He was shovelling the snow in this driveway… except it was taking him much too long. I stopped my machine for a few seconds to ponder over the boy. He was all bundled up and still shivering. I could tell he would probably much rather to be playing with the other kids in the park, or sipping hot chocolate in his kitchen than shovelling a driveway.

I wondered what this boy's story was, was his father sick, or simply not there to help him shovel? Did he have siblings that didn't help because they couldn't be bothered? And what about his mother, did she tell him that he had to shovel the driveway before he could go out and play?

It was a story that I wished I could hear… but more than that, I wished I could help.

That was when it hit me. I was sitting on a snowplough machine. It would take a few minutes to plough the driveway. Compared to the hours it would take this boy to shovel his driveway, it seemed like a good idea.

I'm not sure why I came up with this idea, especially since my boss had told me off for asking about it my first day on the job. But it was different at that moment. I'm not sure exactly why or how… but it was. And the thought excited me. I felt as if it was me instead of that boy shovelling snow… snow that I wished the snowplough would plough…

So I did it. I pulled into the driveway, and the boy saw what I was doing and pushed himself to the side. I ploughed the driveway, making sure there was not a speck of snow on the driveway. I smiled ear-to-ear as I drove away from that house… and the boy only stood there, his jaw on the ground.