Snow Days

Today’s a snow day, and there’s nothing like a snow day. There never has been. I still remember lying in bed hoping for my mother would come down the hall to deliver the news that was above all news: school’s cancelled! Wanting to sleep in, I was always too excited to sleep, and, bundled in snow pants and sweater, I struggled to get the required breakfast down before being allowed to go outside. With the nod from my mother, I’d run outside with my dog and sister and sled down the tiny slope in front of our house. (I think the best “runs” lasted 4.5 seconds.) Even at fifty-eight, the memory stirs the 10 year old within.

Seeing snow fall from the sky and yet make no sound is, itself, enchanting. Watching it gather on evergreen branches is all but a ticket to Narnia, and leaves me expecting to come across a lamppost any minute. Cars become infrequent, and those that drive past are muffled. All the uncollected leaves and fallen branches are covered with nature’s pristine white coat, and my dog celebrates with her version of making snow angels. Businesses and schools are closed, and there’s little to do but enjoy the day. (I do my best to avoid the grocery store, where people push to get the last loaf of bread or gallon of milk. Who ever said those were the essentials on snow days?)

More than the way it looks, what I love most is how a snow day feels. People go for walks, neighbors wave, soup and bread become a feast, and adults sled. In other words, life takes a turn in a different direction. Meetings and phone calls wait. The snow makes rooms inside brighter, and people seem to breath deeper. Instead of living, we remember what a gift it is to be alive.

Maybe that’s the greatest magic of all.