Snow Day

My bedroom is gray and full of shadows. I glance at my phone.

No school.

I turn off my alarm and go back to sleep.

When we wake, my son opens the shade before going downstairs. The snow is still falling and everything is coated in a thick layer of white.

We have donuts for breakfast and watch TV. I can hear the sound of snow blowers and shovels outside.

My children are out of the house before nine o’clock. The trees are laden with the heavy snow and I tell them not to play under the large linden in our front yard. I go outside in my snow pants, coat, hat, and gloves with a bowl full of raisins and a carrot for the snowman they’re building. One neighbor snow blows our sidewalk and another does the end of our driveway so I only have to shovel the path to our house. My husband snow blows the rest on his lunch break.

I look at my garden and think of the daffodil and allium bulbs tucked underground, bulbs that will bloom in fluffy shades of buttercream, bulbs that will hopefully keep the aphids at bay. There is no color, no sign of spring, but today there is a different kind of beauty.

We take a walk around the neighborhood with a sled. My children ask me to run while pulling them and I overheat in my coat. They go down the little hill on our street and I look for cars before they launch themselves toward the road. The snow falls in fat, wet flakes. I tell my son to stop eating so much of it.

There is hot cocoa waiting for us when we come back inside and they each get a giant marshmallow that floats on top. My son chugs his while my daughter takes tiny sips. Our wet clothes hang by the fireplace in the basement. We watch a movie and have box mac and cheese and raspberries for lunch. 

All of the stuffed animals migrate to the living room and the floor is covered in unicorns, dinosaurs, teddy bears, and horses. My daughter and I play a board game while my son watches monster trucks on TV.

After my husband is done with work, we all meet friends for sledding. Soon, my children are racing through the snow on sleds, snow tubes, and the toboggan that we brought. We stay until the sky is dark, the wind picking up, the sledding paths slick and icy. My son, exhausted, sobs the entire way home. 

There’s more cocoa when we’re back, more TV; dinner is leftovers in the living room. Then showers and bed. Tomorrow there will still be snow, but also school; a return to our daily routine where my alarm goes off in the darkness and I pack lunches and hug my children goodbye. Tomorrow we will go our separate ways but today was all ours.