Blizzard 2014

Riley stood, the blue velvet curtains draped behind her like a cape. She looked out the window into the night, her breath fogging the area right in front of her face. Looking from the darkness of her room at the glowing lights outside, I could just make out the snowflakes descending rapidly onto our lawn.  

She spoke.  “Mommy, we need to get my hat and gloves and boots on so we can go play in the snow,” she instructed.

I sighed.  I already had a snow day called by my school district, but I still wanted to get her to bed early so I could grade some papers, and get some sleep myself.

“Baby, it’s bedtime, so let’s read a story, and when you wake up in the morning, we can play in the snow,” I countered, picking her up and depositing her into her bed.

I grabbed "The Snowy Day" by Ezra Peats from her floor. It's a book that I discovered when I was a child visiting my grandparents' house on Albion Street in Passaic.

I used to sneak up the blue carpeted stairs, past the white lamp in the shape of naked guy holding a torch, while the grown ups were downstairs talking, cooking and gesticulating wildly. It would then take all my five-year-old strength to open the heavy glass door to the "haunted" back apartment room (my cousins, sister, and I thought this because it was always cold). My grandparents rented the room out when my mom was young, and it was its own self-contained little apartment, with a bathroom off to the right, a bed, and that radiator hissing in the way only old, scary radiators can. Avoiding the hiss, I would climb over the bed, carefully pull the bottom drawer out of the black bureau, and settle onto the well-worn carpet between the furniture pieces to read.

I leaned over and tucked the covers around Riley and Lamby (her stuffed lamb that is as well-loved and worn as the Velveteen Rabbit). Turning on the little light next to her bed, I maneuvered myself over the guard rail, and lay down next to her with the book. "One winter morning, Peter woke up and looked out the window. Snow had fallen during the night. It covered everything as far as he could see..."

* * *

The next morning, they waddled around the kitchen, tiny pink and purple versions of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.  

Riley was wearing brown snowpants, a red polka dot vest she calls the “Minnie Mouse vest”, a purple puffy coat, turquoise scarf, black mittens, frog hat (complete with eyes), and her hood pulled over the hat.  Ella stood at the back door, patting her hands vehemently against the glass while saying, “ow-side!”.  She was in black overall snowpants that were her dad’s when he was little, a green polka dot vest over green striped shirt, a pink coat, purple mittens,  pink hat, and multicolored rainbow scarf.  

“Mommy, I want to go play in the snow,” Riley exclaimed, her little voice coming from somewhere within the pillowy mass of clothes.  

“I know sweetie, mommy just needs to get her boots on,” I said, pulling on my new black patent leather waterproof boots.  The fake fur interior was warm and dry, thought I was fairly certain that would all change in the next half hour or so.  

Jeff zippered up his jacket, put on his knit hat with the mohawk fringe, and turned to me. "Let's do this."

Pulling on my own coat, I grabbed my waterproof gloves, draped my camera strap over my scarf, and opened the door. The dogs jumped excitedly as I shooed them from the porch, and Riley hip checked Ella, maneuvering between the grill and the wall to get down the stairs first. I picked up the distraught pink puff, and carried her down into the snow, watching as her big sister waded through the nine or so inches of powder across the lawn, and promptly collapsed halfway to the woods in order to make snow angels, calling out, "it's like in the story, mommy!"

Over the next half hour, I took about fifty photos of my girls slipping down plastic slides, making snow angels, and eating snow by the mittenful.  I also hauled a screaming Ella inside so I could change her socks and put her boot (which got kicked off her foot as she tried to climb into her plastic car) back on, passed a soccer ball around with Riley, and made snow angels myself.  We also ducked into plastic play houses, riled up the dogs, and ran (as much as we could) around the yard, playing "I'm gonna get you".

It was the first time I played in the snow with both my daughters, since Ella was too little last year to really go out.  With the dogs leaping and barking around us, I spent much of the time laughing, as did the girls (minus the boot incident, and one involving the doorbell on the playhouse not working- Ella was not amused by either of these instances).  The snow and cold reminded me of a couple of the reasons I love living in North Jersey instead of Southern California (where it only snows in movies, like Father Of The Bride).

It's a wonderful thing to experience a snow day as an adult, knowing that instead of sitting in a classroom, teaching the future generation about philosophy and recording their lives through writing, I'm educating my own girls through experience.  I hope they know they can act silly, and play in the snow at any age, and make faces, because I do.  I hope they embrace their own days off by spending them with family and friends they adore.  It's important to stop sometimes, and appreciate the unexpected extra moments that become memories.

Snow has a way of digging up nostalgia, and causing us to reflect on the moments in the past when it permeated our lives. As kids, that involved sleigh riding, building forts in front of the fireplace with couch cushions, and trudging through the snow, barely able to move from all the layers we wore.

As teens, unexpected sleepovers with friends, days off from school (that agony and ecstasy of the snow line or town siren), and throwing snow at the object of our affection took center stage.

When we hit our 20's and 30's though, snow takes on more of a pain in the butt association, with more clearing driveways and sidewalks, and less snowman and igloo building.  It's important to remember the fun that can be had, and embrace it whenever we can.

So drink some hot cocoa, batten down the hatches, and hike up your boots.  Look out the window, because snow has fallen during the night, and covers everything as far as the eye can see.  Go out and enjoy it.