Snow Days Are The Best Days

When school is cancelled for a blizzard, you’re in for an exhausting day of fun.

I knew we were in for a magical day the moment I looked out the window.

Overnight, eight inches of powdery snow had fallen. All the blemishes of dirty streets and unkempt yards had been erased beneath a blanket of pure, sparkling, perfection.

It was the best kind of snow day. The forecast had been enough for the superintendent to decide school would be canceled the next day. The kids didn’t have to go to sleep hoping for accumulation. They went to bed with smiles on their faces knowing that they’d wake up to a world transformed into an infinite playground.

I remembered waking up as a child and listening to the radio, fingers crossed, waiting for the updated list of cancellations.

First there would be one.

Then there would be five.

Then they’d go through a whole list until finally, finally, my school was mentioned among those that would not be in session.

“You can go back to bed,” mom would say.

But no, it was, “Hooray! Hooray!” and even in the almost total darkness of the early morning I’d pull on my snow pants and grab my sled and hurl myself down into the valley on a piece of plastic that was never designed to endure what I put it through again and again.

The days are short in winter, you have to squeeze out every moment that you can. You’re cold at first, but the day will warm, and the heat generated from trudging up a hill will help sustain you.

As an adult, years later, the excitement of my girls is infectious.

“Can we go out now! Can we go out now! Can we go out now!”

“Yes.”

“Can we bring the dog? Can we bring the dog? Can we bring the dog?”

“Of course you can bring the dog!”

I’m not sure if Kuzo is excited by the snow or if he’s just picking up on the energy of the girls, but he leaps and bounds into the snow. He’s careful at first, testing what he’s getting into, before he figures out it’s okay and starts launching himself into the air.

The kids throw handfuls of snow that make a cloud of sparkling light, and Kuzo leaps up, teeth snapping, then lands on his feet and looks around in confusion while the girls laugh.

My job is to shovel.

Well, that’s okay.

The previous year, I broke down and got one of those electric snow mover contraptions. I’d always snorted at the people that got such things. I thought it was the type of gimmick old people buy. Well, now I’m an old person, and I started flinging snow with electricity rather than the power of my back.

A rooster tail of snow leaps into the air, and the girls want to stand in front of it and the dog wants to attack it.

“Don’t go into the snow girls, this thing might kick up a rock!”

They’re disappointed, but the machine makes a cloud of snow, a wall of snow, and the wind gets it blowing and swirling around. It’s like a movie scene. The winter planet from Star Trek or Star Wars. A Hollywood blizzard.

Hours later, the sidewalk is clear. I’m exhausted.

The girls, however, are just getting started.

“Can we go sledding? Can we go sledding? Can we go sledding?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes! But we have to eat first.”

“Oh yeah!

So, we eat, and I crumple on the couch and shut my eyes for a moment, just a moment, and then they’re on me. “Now? How about now? Now, now, now, now, now?”

“Yes, okay, let’s go.”

The sledding hill is just down the road. In the past I used to let them sit in the sled and I’d pull them there, but today I’m too tired so we drive.

The hill is alive with people, hurtling down the best hill in our community. There’s a massive pine tree right in the middle of the hill.

“Now girls, remember, what’s the objective?”

“Avoid the pine tree!”

The first time I took them sledding, I taught them how to bail out. “If the sled is hurtling toward the pine tree, just jump out. Got it?”

“Got it!”

I made them practice three times at the top of the hill.

“Go!” I’d say, and the girls would roll off the sled to the right. “Again!”

When I thought they had it down, I let them go.

Sure enough, the sled advanced ten yard before taking a hard turn to make a bee-line for the pine tree.

“Bail out! Bail out!”

But they didn’t. They both sat there, frozen, despite all our practice and, “Thump!”

Fortunately the snow wasn’t fast and they’d come almost to a stop before they hit.

“Why didn’t you bail out like we practiced?”

“We panicked!”

But that was years ago, and now they’re skilled pilots shifting their weight and putting their hands down to change the direction of the sled. Nevertheless, I wait for them at the bottom of the hill, standing in front of the pine tree to deflect them (or other children) as needed.

The hill is alive with neighborhood kids. Some of them don’t know the unwritten rules of sledding. A few finish their runs and lay at the bottom, motionless or making snow angels.

“Hey! Get out of the way or you’re going to get run over!”

That gets them up and scrambling back up the hill.

“Hey! Don’t walk up there! You’re ruining our run! Go hike over there by the tree line!”

There’s always a few kids who can’t figure anything out.

“My socks have fallen off the back of my heels,” one boy complains.

That’s a common affliction when it comes to sledding. What causes it? Is it the repeated impacts? Is it the speed? Is it the snow and ice that gets into your boot? Is it the fact that winter boots aren’t made for walking?

I don’t know. For some reason, when you’re sledding your socks are drawn into the toe of your boot leaving your heel exposed. I remembered that problem well. I also remembered the solution.

“You have to duct tape your socks to your long underwear when you’re getting dressed,” I said.

The kid looked at me like I was nuts, so did his mother. Fine. Don’t listen to me. Enjoy your cold, wet, miserable feet.

Up and down, up and down, up and down my girls go, laughing and giggling and shrieking!

“That was our longest run yet!”

In December, in Wisconsin, the sun stays low in the sky. It’s like twilight all day. The light is beautiful. The snow twinkles like diamonds.

The hill runs on forever.

Eventually, darkness falls.

“Can we go home and get some food now?”

The girls agree. They won’t admit it, but they’re cold and wet and exhausted. So, we pile back into the car and head back home. We eat and watch movies and laugh about the day’s adventures.

There are holidays we designate. There are dates we circle on the calendar and anticipate for weeks and months.

And then there are holidays that just happen. These are spontaneous days when all the adults agree it makes no sense to fight the weather. On those days, we cancel everything, grab our sleds, and head to the hill.

You never know when one will happen.

It could happen tomorrow.

You can always cross your fingers and hope.

Snow days are the best days.