Snowday!

Snowday!

My hands are freezing. My jacket is covered in ice. Water is dripping from my hair and eyelashes, even as we speak. Yes, it's snowing...in February...in Dixie...it's snowing. Real snow, too--not that icy, slushy, makes-you-fall-on-the-concrete stuff either--this is the real thing, light and powdery, perfect for making snowballs...or snowmen...or snowcream. It's the kind that crunches when you step on it--the kind that sticks in the trees and clings to the side of the road. It's also the kind that gets young children out of bed at six o'clock in the morning to have snowball fights with their brothers and sisters before their parents even wake up. (Well, you can't expect them to get up that early any other normal day can you? It's not snowing then...why should they?...My point exactly.)

Right now, I am standing beneath the shelter of half a dozen ice-tipped oak trees, resting and trying to catch my breath because I just pelted my brother with snowballs (and he's probably looking for me now!). I laugh as I take in the frosty air, all the ice on the leaves and limbs above me, the whole world one giant snow-covered abyss. This brings back memories--memories of every snowday I've ever seen, of every snowman, every power outage, every puppy-dog-paw-print in that frozen white stuff. But most of all, it brings back memories of a time when family was all that mattered, all that existed (or, at least, all I remember). Strange as it may seem, that was not too long ago--only before everyone became so busy with their daily routine that we forgot to step back and enjoy the moment...

I had just turned three years old; my little brothers were still in diapers (babies that they were...). That morning, I woke up and looked out the window like I always did--my morning ritual, my simple way of greeting the new day. Every day before, the sun was either wide awake or still snoozing behind the clouds, too lazy to rise and shine. This time, though, I was greeted not by the sun or the rain, but by this white...stuff...falling from the sky--or, what I perceived was the sky, as the...stuff...had completely covered the ground, making it look like a giant, puffy white cloud.

Still trying to figure out whether or not our house had flown off into the sky during the night, I heard someone down the hall shouting with great enthusiasm, "Yeah! Alright! Snowday!" Just as suddenly as he had shattered the silence, Derek emerged in my doorway, grinning like a possum from ear to ear. "You see the snow?!" he half-screamed, half-whispered, still smiling, trying not to wake the whole house. "I don't have to go to school today!"

"How come?" I asked, still wondering what on earth he was talking about.

"Because it's snowing! You see all that white stuff? That's snow!"...Snow? What is snow? Why does that stop school? Why is he so happy??? As these questions filled my three-year-old head, I realized my feet had suddenly been separated from the ground, my brother's arms lifting me up to the window.

"Look!" he whispered as I pressed my palms to the cold glass, leaving tiny handprints in the fog.

"Snow?"

"Yeah! Isn't it cool?"

"Yeah." Putting me down and opening the closet, he held out the denim Winnie-the-Pooh jacket I'd gotten for Christmas.

"Here, put this on. We're gonna go outside."

Half an hour later, I stood in the kitchen, covered from head to toe in at least three layers of too-hot, too-thick fabric that bunched around my knees and elbows--making even the simple task of walking next-to-impossible. My mama caught sight of me from her place at the counter, where she stood, pouring her necessary dose of caffeine for the day. "Good morning, baby," she said, trying not to laugh at the ungodly outfit my brother had thrown together.

"Help me!" I pleaded, urging her to free my limbs once again.

A figure appeared at the front door of our apartment, streaming in light from the just-awakened morning sun. Covered in frosty white powder, his blonde mop of hair already dripping wet, my brother burst into the room.

"Are you comin'?" he asked, cocking his head as he brushed the snow from his jacket.

"Just a minute," Mama warned, "she'll be out in just a minute. Where's your hat?"

"Mama, I don't need that thing! It just gets in the way!"

"Well, I don't need another doctor's bill because you went outside in the freezing cold with nothing on your head like you don't know any better. I've got enough to deal with already with Kevin's earaches. You know that."

"But Mama--"

"Derek," she warned, lifting her eyebrows and raising the tone of her voice in that typical I'm-your-mother-and-I-said-so kind of way.

"Yes ma'am." With this, he trudged back to his room, ducking his shoulders and staring at the floor. Shortly after, he returned, a black-and-blue-striped knit hat clasped in his hand. Handing me a pair of lavender-hued mittens, my mother shooed us out the door, telling Derek one more time to "be careful with her." The neighborhood kids were already playing by the time we got outside. We followed them (or, shall I say, Derek followed them--I was merely tagging along in the footsteps of my big brother) to the neighborhood playground, where the slides and swings stood dusted with snow.

Letting go of my hand, my brother high-fived a few of the older guys in the group. As he did so, his best friend, Dustin, chucked a wad of cold white snow down the back of his jacket, sending Derek into a wild fit of screaming and chicken-with-its-head-cut-off-style dancing. I was amazed at just how much my brother, despite the nine years between us, still sounded so much like a girl!

"You're gonna pay for that!" Derek sent another handful of snow streaming into the air. Slowly, so slowly, it made its ascent, reaching the top, then falling back down to earth and landing directly between Dustin's eyes. (If this had been an Olympic tournament, I still believe my brother would have earned top marks and a standing ovation from a cheering crowd of fans---but since it was only a bunch of junior high kids, that toss was merely the beginning of an all-out snow war.)

As the other kids began to run aimlessly through the deserted parking lot of our apartments, hiding behind snow-covered cars and trying to avoid flying chunks of snow, I did not move. Instead, I remained right where my brother had left me, cold and paralyzed with confusion, still reluctant to move for fear I might fall through the cloud. Our friends kept running, pounding each other with handfuls of that frosty white stuff. As the surprised screams and excited yelling grew fainter, I looked all around for any sign of my brother.

"Derek?" I spoke to the wind. He was nowhere to be found. Maybe if I talk louder... "Derek!" Still no sign. "DEREK!!!" I yelled as loud as my little lungs would let me, but my brother did not answer. There was no one around. At all. I was alone. My eyes stung with the onset of tears; my vision became blurred. There was no sound, no sign of anyone nearby--I couldn't remember which way our apartment was. And besides that, I couldn't cross the street on my own anyway. I was stuck--all alone, forgotten, lost--in this strange place covered in this strange white stuff. I would never make it home; I would never see my family again. I felt sure of it.

Just as I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, I heard a soft rustle in the bushes behind me. Oh no! I thought, sitting stone-still, remembering all those episodes of America's Most Wanted about kids being taken by strangers. I tried not to breathe, hoping the sound-making person wouldn't hear me, wouldn't take me. Crunch, crunch--footsteps, coming toward me--I felt someone standing behind me. Swish-swash-swish--there was that rustle again. I felt the tears well up in my eyes once more, though I was still holding my breath in hopes of making the kidnapper go away. Don't take me, don't take me! I have two teddy bears that couldn't live without me and I wanna see my daddy again! I willed him to go away and leave me alone, though I still felt him standing behind me, not saying a word.

"Boosh!" The kidnapper spoke, and I felt my skin go cold--or maybe that was just the snow that had suddenly been dumped all over me. "Ha! Gotcha!" That voice sounded familiar, yet I could not place it. I knew I'd heard it before, but I couldn't think of where. I saw a bright blue blur in front of me, through my tear-filled eyes.

"What's wrong?" Derek. It was Derek! My teddy bears would have a mama again! I would see my family again!

"You left me," I said in a shaky voice, despite the immediate relief of knowing my brother was back.

"No, you left me," he answered back, his eyebrows drawing closer together, a puzzled look on his face. "I thought you were gonna stay with me, but I turned around and you were gone. Why didn't you follow me?"

"I don't know." I stared at the ground. Derek brushed the snow out of my hair and off my jacket, wiping a stray tear from my face.

"It's okay. Hey, you wanna see something cool?"

"Yeah," I muttered, still staring at the frozen ground beneath my light-up-in-the-dark shoes.

"Watch this--do what I do." Derek bent down close to the ground, his hands buried in the snow. I dropped to my knees, the wet snow soaking into my jeans, and picked up a small handful of snow. He closed his hands around the snow, carefully squeezing it to form a ball, and I did the same. "There, that looks good," he said as we both held up our snow spheres. "That's called a snowball." Snowball. So that's what they call it. "Now throw it way over there." He pointed to a few lonely holly trees in the corner of the lot, their berries dripping with melted ice.

The snowball left my hands, forming a small arc, then falling apart some before it hit the ground two feet in front of me. "Well, that's a start," my brother laughed. I stood in silence for a few seconds, mesmerized by the masterpiece I had just created. "Hey Haley, look out!" Boosh! Another snowball planted itself right in the middle of my back. Derek was still laughing as I turned around, another cold white missile perched in his hand. "Gotcha!"

"Hey!" I squealed in delight, reaching down for a handful of powder to toss at my brother. I sent it spiraling through the air, hitting him square in the stomach, the snow falling apart as it hit his jacket with a soft swash.

"Oh! You're gettin' good!" he said, smiling proudly, I'm sure, at how good of a teacher he'd turned out to be. He bent down for another handful of snow, and I took off running toward the swingset. We soon found ourselves covered in frosty white powder, laughing and yelling happily each time one of us hit the other.

As the sun found its way closer to the top of the sky, we heard our mother calling us from the screen door. "Derek! Haley! Time to come in!" Derek got one more hit in before lifting me to his shoulders and carrying me across the street to our home, laughing each time I yelled as he pretended to stumble and drop me.

Sitting there, watching the snowflakes that kept falling from the sparse clouds, I took in the winter wonderland that our yard had become. The icicles hanging from the roof, the frozen red berries on the tree branches, the grass peeking out from under the blanket of snow--it all stuck in my mind--the first snowday I can remember. Ever since then, each time I look out my window on a cold winter day to be greeted by the fresh-fallen snow on the ground, I think back to that image, that memory. I remember all the snowballs and the laughs and the smiles. And I am sure that, even after I am no longer able to go outside and play in the snow, I will still remember that sense of innocence and joy that came with my first Snowday.

February 1, 2007