I lost counts of how many snowstorm have ravaged this part of hemisphere. Being stuck at home, I tried to catch up with the online world. The kids were busy with their selves and I was enjoying some me time. Then I caught a glimpse of something flying outside the window. The old tree next to our house has been a well-suited host for several types of birds, and it appeared one particular bird had come to visit. I realized it was a woodpecker, from the red feather on its head. The woodpecker was pecking an old hole in the tree, while the snow began to fall. By the time a couple of minutes past, the snow fell harder with the wind that blew with such strength, it sounded ominous. The petite woodpecker has stopped pecking, and by now was hiding inside the old hole. Its back was shown. The hole wasn’t good wide for it to shield its self from the storm. Suddenly, I felt so sad. I witnessed the woodpecker tried to make the hole bigger, so it could get in as much as possible. But the storm wouldn’t let it to finish. There I was, feeling safe, dry and comfortable indoor, while this small creature had to fight for its survival. Then I remember my complain about the bad winter that’s been going on, and it hit me, who am I to complain anyway. Don’t I feel ashamed for complaining? In the life’s drama, sometimes small doesn’t mean fragile and survival is a matter of being strong and diligent.