Snow Day

  I stood barefoot on the ice-cold wood floor, feeling the chill seep through my toes and shivering in my thin cotton pajama bottoms. The rough texture of the wood beneath my feet sent a shiver up my spine, and I hugged my arms around myself for warmth. (No eleven-year-old man would ever wear a pajama top.) 

Looking at my Mickey Mouse clock, I could see it was four-fourteen in the morning. It was still dark out and long before I had to get up for school, but I was a genius. 

At eleven years old, I had the mind of Einstein and the psychic abilities of “The Amazing Kreskin.” Between my genius science skills and precognitive abilities, I was sure that my life was about to change. 

“I should be in charge of the country, or maybe even the world,” I thought.

But the world would have to wait. 

My mind felt revved up like a Ferrari engine that was red-lined. My legs were pumping on their own, like I was getting ready for a hundred-yard dash. 

Starting out slowly, but like a gazelle on the Serengeti, I deftly leapt over the clothes that lay in a heap on the floor and turned left around the end of the bed, past my toy box.

My destination lay right in front of me. Time stood still as I brought myself to a halt. The warmth from the baseboard heater beneath the window barely permeated the cold room, but it warmed my feet. 

“HA! I knew it. I am a genius!“ Pride swelled in my tiny chest as I chuckled to myself.

Just like I thought! Overnight, the dismal wet world outside had transformed into a beautiful winter wonderland, evidenced by the sparkling landscape that lay beyond the foggy window. 

I darted past my toy box, again, making a beeline for the center of my bedroom.

I filled my mind with the day’s activities. I had visions of sledding down snowy hills and creating the most magnificent snow sculpture the world had ever seen.

I dashed to my dresser, tossed all my coloring books on the floor beside my clothes, and carefully grabbed my beloved transistor radio from its hiding spot underneath. Please, please, please, I silently prayed to the battery gods, hoping that the nine-volt battery had enough juice left in it.

In our house, it was a well-known fact that, since we were poor, batteries were a luxury.

With trembling fingers, I clicked the “on” button, and a faint static noise filled the room. “Yes! Yahtzee!” I screamed internally, overjoyed. The metal antenna gave three resounding clicks as I pulled it to its full length. I quickly thumbed the other dial to 530 on the display. Patiently I waited through a commercial about winter tires. Nervously, I looked at Mickey Mouse. It was almost forty-three! Before long the newcaster began speaking. I waved the radio around until I found the perfect angle to clear the reception. The man said “School closures.” as I held my breath in anticipation. 

“C’mon, C’mon, time was wasting.” Despite my genius, I shook the radio. I needed an answer fast! I had plenty of prep work to do if school was closed today. 

Why did I have to go to a school whose name started with a Q? I made a mental note to find out who was in charge of the names.

Finally, he made the announcement, "Philip is closed.” “Preston: Open” the voice loud and clear.

My palms were sweating; how could any of them be open? I made another mental note. “Quincy...” I nearly dropped my radio. “Closed.”

“Woooo hoooo!” I said it much too loudly. Realizing the time of the morning, I followed up with a quiet “Yipee!” 

I casually threw my radio onto the bed. The antenna bent a little at the top, but there was nothing going to ruin my snow day. Nothing!

Sprinting back to look out the window, I was eager to use my superior intellect to estimate the depth of the snow at eight o'clock. 

Through the window, I counted snowflakes one by one, their ethereal beauty highlighted by the soft illumination of my bedroom. Just as I reached one hundred ten, a flickering light switched on in the house across from mine.

There she was. That new girl from school She was staring back at me. She waved. I waved back.

“Darn it,” I said to myself. “I lost count.”

Combining my physic powers and complex multiplication, I calculated the snow would be four feet deep by eight. 

Wiping the window, again, I saw the girl across the street still looking at me. She was the same girl who always sat at my lunch table with Bill, Rocky, and me.

We usually ignored her. Besides, she was not part of the Superman club. We formed a Superman club at the start of the year. All three of us sported metal lunch boxes with Superman on them.

She had a sack lunch. No way was she getting in. Despite the cute dimples and braided hair.

She smiled at me, so I smiled back.

Maybe snow-day diplomacy differed from lunch-table diplomacy. With a wave, I quickly made my way back to my dresser to rummage through it.

As I sifted through my pants drawer, the musty smell of old fabric filled the air. I found an old pair and then started rummaging through my shirt drawer. Triumphantly retrieved my best shirt I was ready to go.

Next, I needed to use the bathroom. Changing to my Ninja stealth mode, I slowly opened the bedroom door, and alternating my footsteps from sliding ninja style to tip-toe, I silently crept along the wall to the bathroom. 

Once I had finished, I used the same Ninja technique to retreat to the bedroom. Secure knowing that I disturbed no one. 

After getting dressed, I sat and stared at Mickey while kicking my legs against my bed rail. I tried to use my psychic powers to make time go faster, but cosmic rays must have been interfering because nothing changed. 

Finally, I heard my mom downstairs in the kitchen. That was my queue! I ran and threw open the door, sliding past the bathroom on the hardwood floor to the top of the stairs. 

Taking my time and holding onto the handrail, I walked down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen. My mom was probably making breakfast. I couldn’t contain my excitement as I thought about what the day might hold for me now that I had no school. 

With a big smile on my face, I walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, making a fairly loud noise as it scraped against the linoleum floor. 

My mom looked up from her cooking, a mixture of surprise and annoyance on her face. 

“No school today,” she said.

She clearly didn’t understand the significance of what she had just said. 

“Yeah, I know,” I replied, taking my seat at the table and grinning from ear to ear. She never understood how my genius mind and physic powers always kept me one step ahead.

Finishing everything on my plate, gulping down the last of my orange juice, I ran to the enclosed back porch.

The sun was already up. The daylight was wasting. My mom followed right behind. “Now make sure you wear your mittens. Make sure you don’t stay out too long.” I did not have time for lectures. It was the same every time it snowed. I made another mental note to write an instruction book about snow safety.

After I pushed my feet into my snow boots, I slipped on my mittens, and snugged them down between each finger.

My mom bent down and tied my hood down until it was so snug I thought the string would choke me. She opened the door, and I felt that satisfying gust of cold air. I was about to enter my domain.

If the world knew how lucky it was, I turned and hugged my mommy and took one step down the stairs when she stopped me. 

“Just a minute.” She held out her index finger and stepped back into the kitchen. I knew it had to be important if she was the one “heating the whole outdoors.” 

She returned with my dad’s red thermos and handed it to me. Thoroughly puzzled, my eyebrows shot up. Which was difficult for someone with my intellect. 

“It’s hot chocolate. I thought you might like to take some with you.” 

I met her gaze and breathed out, seeing my breath swirl in the cold air. “Thanks.”

In her other hand, she pulled out a plastic sandwich bag filled halfway with the fluffy goodness of mini marshmallows. “Put these in your pocket,” she said as she tucked them into my pocket.

Why do moms do such things? She told me, and then she did it. I made another mental note. 

Then, with a smile, she said, “Be careful and have fun,” and she disappeared behind the closed door. 

Before me lay the snow-covered path that stretched to the street to my waiting adventures. 

At this point I realized the snow wasn’t as deep as I had thought it would be. Likely because of some cosmic interference, I mused.

 Clutching the thermos tightly in both hands, and positioning myself squarely on the walkway, I brought my feet together and made the choice to leap over the last two stairs.

 Bending my knees, I propelled myself forward, landing gracefully, before a surge of momentum sent me toppling backward into the soft, powdery snow.

 Quickly regaining my footing, I stole a glance back at the door, hoping my mom hadn’t witnessed my fall. It looked like I was in the clear.

Maybe I’d start by glimpsing some hilariously graceful ice skaters and having a good laugh while sipping on my hot chocolate on a bench. I traversed the treacherous ground and carefully made my way across the street.

As I sauntered down the path, sandwiched between houses, I finally arrived at the lake. The wide open space was a snowy spectacle.

The pine trees were decked out in snowy garb, looking like they were ready for a winter ball. Icicles dangled from some branches like sparkling earrings. Like a frosty fashion show! 

With the satisfying sound of snow crunching under my feet, I made my way to one bench near the lake. Brushing off the snow I perched myself on the bench, feeling snug in my brand new snowsuit and armed with a trusty thermos.

Oh, the sheer joy of it all! I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself as I observed the figures on the ice, bundled up in so many layers that I couldn’t even figure out who was who.

My oh-so-clever brain seemed utterly befuddled by their cunning disguises. 

Then, I heard the familiar sound of snow crunching behind me, and sure enough, there she was—the girl from across the street, making her way past the bench.

My heart fluttered as I noticed the tear in her coat—a sign of her struggle to stay warm in the cold.

She hoisted herself onto the bench, her ungloved hands leaving puffs of fog in the air as she blew warm air onto them.

She glanced at me and said, “I saw you in your room this morning.” 

My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her. “I know,” I responded, utterly perplexed by my own boldness.

I didn’t want to seem too forward, so I quickly turned my attention back to the skaters on the ice.

It wasn’t long before the urge for a cup of hot cocoa overcame me, and I eagerly twisted the red cup on top of the thermos. 

I sat the cup down on the bench beside me, eager for the moment when I could indulge in the taste of the warm, comforting embrace of hot chocolate. 

With an animated twist, I unscrewed the cap, releasing a delightful puff of steam that carried the tantalizing aroma of chocolate up to my nostrils. 

As I carefully maneuvered the thermos, I couldn’t help but think, “Man, I’ve got it made!” The velvety brown liquid poured into my cup like a delicious, molten waterfall, and I had to stifle a chuckle at my enjoyment. 

After filling it halfway, I secured the lid back on and nestled the thermos on my lap, feeling like the luckiest kid in the world. 

Removing the glove from my right hand, I picked up the red cup. Expertly, I brought the cup to my lips and blew, creating ripples in the liquid’s surface. The warmth flooded my mouth as I took a quick sip. “Ouch!” I blurted out, attracting the attention of the girl next to me, who chuckled.

As I started to try again, the sound of her adjusting in her seat, the soft rustling, caught my attention.

I noticed her crossing one leg over the other, and then I saw it, she was wearing regular tennis shoes wrapped in plastic bread bags. “Tennis shoes in this blizzard?” 

I couldn’t help but think how unusual it was. Contrastingly, my cozy boots felt like a sanctuary against the cold.

I took another sip of my brew and savored the warmth as it slid down my throat, sending a comforting sensation through me. When I turned to set my cup down, I found the girl looking at me with a different expression from before.

As she gazed at me out here on this park bench, away from how I had seen her at the lunch table, she seemed transformed.

I do not know why I said it, but I blurted out, “Would you like some hot cocoa?” and extended my cup to her.

Her face lit up with a smile, and her adorable dimples peeked through. As she reached for the cup, her arm fell short, prompting her to scoot closer to me. 

“Wait, a sec!” I exclaimed, my fingers fumbling into my pocket and finding the zip-locked bag of fluffy marshmallows nestled in the warmth. I dropped a handful into her mug and she grinned with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, her laughter bubbling up from within. It was infectious, and soon we were both shaking with laughter, the sound echoing through the winter air.

When she took a sip, I pointed out the frothy chocolate mustache she’d gained, and we both erupted into fits of giggles, the warmth of our amusement mingling with the chill in the air.

After another round of marshmallow-topped cocoa, the liquid warmth coating my throat, I had a sudden, daring notion. I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to ask her if she wanted to get closer, the thrum of my heartbeat echoing in my ears, and timidly suggested she put her hand in my pocket to keep warm.

She did, her fingers brushing against mine as she nestled her hand in the shelter of my coat, and I felt a jolt of warmth and closeness that had little to do with the physical act. I tentatively covered her hand with mine, the shared warmth seeping into both of us and bringing a comforting closeness.

We sat there, the warmth of the hot cocoa mingling with the coolness of the winter air, watching the skaters gliding on the ice, our laughter fading into a content silence as we lost ourselves in each other’s company.

Somehow, before I knew it, the morning had slipped away, the grand snow sculpture project forgotten for the moment. And yet, right then, it didn’t matter. I was content just sitting there with her, our cups of cocoa serving as a tangible symbol of the warmth and joy we had found together amidst the winter chill.