Snow

Ohio. I regularly contemplate how anyone could find joy living in Ohio. It’s just so boring. We’ve been here less than a year, and I can confidently say it’s the most boring place on the planet. There’s never been a good thing to say about Ohio, and yet, this is where mother and father have decided to live. I fear they may be idiots.

Most days start exactly the same way. I sit at my table, eat my cereal, and stare longingly at the backyard through the paned-glass sliding door. Our giant dog, Rufus, sleeps listlessly outside his little dog house surrounded by leafless trees and a high, dull-grey fence. Even he is bored. I wonder if, like me, he prays for something exciting to happen? Hopefully not. I’d hate for him to share in my disappointment that it’s just Ohio. All the time.

So, it should be no shock to you when I say that today isn’t any different. To be totally forthcoming, I think the dread of the whole thing is really starting to weigh on me. I don’t even want to look outside. Instead, I sigh, prop my head up on my less dominant arm to space out, and play with my tiny oat rings. After an unknown amount of time, and a few rings finding their way out of the bowl, mother approaches from the esteemed island of the kitchen.

“Oh! All done, honey?”

I don’t even bother responding, despite not appreciating the condescension. We both know she’s going to take it regardless of what I do, and I just don’t have the fight in me. Not today. At least with the bowl out of my way I have some space. I collapse my head down to the table into my now folded arms and try to block everything out. With my eyes closed I can finally try to get some peace.

But I should know better. There’s never any rest in this wicked place. A loud commotion draws me awake and calls my attention to the sliding door. Rufus apparently wants in, and he is noticeably uncomfortable. My mother, who can’t even bother getting off the phone, moseys over to open the door. As soon as the door opens, I understand why Rufus is so upset because the coldest gust of air I’ve ever felt dances around the room. I can feel it in my core, and I hate every second of it. Just add it to the list.

Later in the den I hear my mother say on the phone that a winter storm was coming through. I assume she was on with my father because she began to giggle discussing the fireplace with him. I didn’t want to hear the rest, so instead I start wondering about this storm. What could she mean? There have been a lot of storms in Ohio, but I have never heard the word ‘winter’ used to describe one before. A pessimistic approach seems appropriate. 

Staring at the ceiling, contemplating the woes the future has in store, the tension of my furrowed brow begins to give me a headache. To put myself at ease I try to visualize places better than this, which isn’t too difficult. I drift off to sleep imagining that I am rolling down the street of West Palm Beach, feeling the warm kiss of the sun on my cheek. I can smell the salt of the ocean mix with the many delicious cuisines on the grills of the boardwalk restaurants. Aah, this is much better.

I’m not certain of how I got there, but I wake in my bed the following morning. The disappointment of not waking up in Florida is likely to set the tone for the whole day. When I get down to the kitchen something seems strange. It kind of seems brighter, and I can hear Rufus’s nails clicking as he walks around on the hardwood floor. He’s inside? That’s odd. I wonder what’s going on.

As I sit at my table with my cereal already poured it all becomes clear. Outside of the paned-glass door, where my boring, plain backyard once sat is instead something outside of my realm of understanding that rockets me out of my morning blues. Everything in the yard is covered in what appears to be a shiny, white, substance that is reflecting the rays of the sun and brightening the whole world. It appears as though small, crystal-like clumps of this same substance are falling from the sky like rain in tiny, little balls. But it isn’t rain. I don’t know what it is, but it’s.…..mesmerizing! 

My heart is racing as I take it all in. Surprisingly, my parents seem not to notice it at all. They’re just sitting there drinking their coffee while sharing a newspaper. How?! I must call their attention to this strange, new environment. They need to witness this beauty of which I am sure we’ve never experienced anywhere before! I point out towards the backyard and shout.

“Grek grua goo gie!”

Dammit! That’s always so embarrassing. More importantly, they’re never going to realize what’s going on out there! To feel so high, and then sink so low. I can’t help but begin to wail. I thrash my arms about and end up knocking my bowl from the table, which sends my dry cereal scattered all over the floor. Great. The tantrum gets the attention of my parents, which brings my mother to stoop down beside me to clean up the mess. 

“What’s the matter, honey?” she asks looking up at me. The warm, caring voice she uses when I’m feeling particularly down always makes me feel a little bit better, and my wail deescalates to a weep.

 “Huh?” she continues, rubbing her thumb across my cheek.

With tears welling in my eyes I can’t help but gaze out at the mysterious beauty. What has happened? Are we even in Ohio anymore? Just the thought tickles me, but, it just couldn’t be possible. My room, the den, and the kitchen all remain the same. Even the backyard, now blanketed in this beautiful anomaly, has the same structure of the one I remember. We have to still be in Ohio. 

There’s just so much swirling around my head. Up until this point I feel I have been too harsh toward my hometown, and I find myself looking forward to potential future surprises like this. More importantly, I’ve realized today that my parents are not the idiots I have believed them to be. As the enormous weight lifts from my shoulders, I close my eyes and feel the last of my tears trickle down my face. With a deep, quivering breath, I settle myself, open my eyes, smile down at my mother, and slowly raise my arm to point to the backyard again.

“Grek grua goo gie.” I say, calmly to my mother. 

She clearly doesn’t understand, but her eyes follow my arm and apparently something clicks.

“Ah! You like the snow, huh honey?”

Snow. Even the sound of the word somehow brings joy to my heart. In her kindest act to date my mother picks me up from my table and carries me to the sliding door. Up close the beauty is even more magical. It’s all-encompassing. Everywhere I look: snow. Its scope is mesmerizing. My mother begins to bounce me while we continue to gaze. It feels like we’ve been standing here for hours taking it all in. My sweet, loving, not-idiot parents must sense how life-changing this moment is becoming for me, for my father joins us at the door, and he and mother are smiling like I’ve never seen them smile.

“Snow,” my mother whispers, softly and lovingly.

“Snow,” she repeats.

“S…..sn…..snow.” I echo, proudly.