www.whyville.net Jun 30, 2013 Weekly Issue

Senior Times Writer

Snow Day

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Was I of age five? Perhaps I was six . . . All I can remember is a day that changed my life. I lived in the warm state of Alabama, the heart of Dixie, at the time. I had never seen snow. Though I'd always wanted to, weather in the deep South had never comforted the frozen vapor. It was the eve of Christmas Eve when the meteorologist claimed that there would be a chance of snow on Christmas Eve. Along with my family, I thought that his words were full of crap. Every single time that he claimed that snow can happen, it was like a tease from the skies above. The temperature was never perfect for the gracious fall of snowflakes. I slipped my pajamas on and slid into my warm and comfortable bed, letting my dreams take me into oblivion.

I woke up and stretched every muscle and every limb from head to toe. I walked into the living room and found my mother fixing up some nice hot chocolate. She handed me a mug filled with the steamy liquid, topped with the creamy, melted marshmallows. She gave me a faint little smile, and I asked her why she gives me the sudden smile. Mom told me to look through the window to see a surprise. Carefully holding the scorching mug, I peeked through the white blinds that hid me from the world outside. I expected nothing more than green grass and bare trees. When I looked, something was altered with the world outside. Instead of the green grass, there was a layer of white covering it, covering everything. I grinned at the site, knowing exactly what had happened.

After slurping down the blazing beverage, I slipped on a few layers of clothing and some gloves that I had yet been able to use. I ran outside to find my mother, grandmother, grandfather, and even my stepfather waiting for me. I began to giggle a tremendous amount. Everyone else began to chime along; they all knew how big of an occasion this was for me.

I bent down and scooped up some of the white substance that coated the world that I once knew. I patted the snow, trying to compact it all into a nice snowball. It wasn't picture perfect, but it would have to do. With careful aim, I set my eyes upon my target, pulled my arm back, and slung my first snowball at my stepfather. His oblivious self was bewildered when he felt the cold wipe over his face. Everyone started to laugh. As the saying goes, laughter is contagious, so I began to chuckle. He took his bewilderment and turned it to action. He squatted down. As soon as I understood what he was doing, I darted to the other side of the yard, crunching my feet on the white sheet beneath me. I hid behind my home, trying to hold my breath. His heavy footsteps came closer and closer. I slid into a corner and covered myself in black tarp, hoping that he wouldn't notice me. I heard his footsteps creep along. To my right . . . Right in front of me . . . I held my breath and sat still. The footsteps had now reached past me. He didn't notice me. I uncovered myself quietly, and as bold as I was, I ran back to where it all started.

I jumped on the trampoline, watching the sheet of snow bounce in rhythm of my hops. After hearing his footsteps, I stopped. I reached down and grabbed a fistful of snow. I aimed at where I heard the steps. I heard the spring of the trampoline. I didn't cause that . . . I was suddenly grabbed by the waist and thrown in the trampoline, watching the cluster of snow as it fell to bury me in white blindness. After the numbing of the snow became unbearable, I brushed everything off and started doing flips to warm myself up again.

After a few backflips, front flips, and other crazy flips, I sprawled out on the trampoline. Shifting both arms up and down, sliding both legs side to side, I attempted my first snow angel. After minutes of repeating my shifting and sliding, I carefully got up to see my snow angel. I giggled at the shape; the trampoline made it look so peculiar.

A sudden idea popped into my head: a snowman. I would make my first snowman that day! My mother got a plaid scarf, a hat, and some buttons. My stepdad got the first ball, the biggest one, rolling it up on the trampoline. Mom got the second one rolling and put on the first one. I rolled up the head and placed it neatly on the top. I put on two buttons for eyes and three buttons for each of the other parts, since that's how I remembered them from movies. Mom threw around the scarf and carves a smile on the snowman since there weren't enough buttons for it. I topped it all off with a little hat on the top. We all decided on the clich? name, Frosty.

As the crazy day came to a halt, I began to frown at the thought that I may never get to do this again. Before I took my final walk inside, I glanced behind me and take in the day that I would never forget.


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