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  • Kelly Marks

Snow Days

There are those who say pure magic doesn’t exist, but they have either never had or can’t remember the feeling from childhood of seeing snow fall. That feeling is second only to Christmas morning and knowing Santa has been there. And both feelings are truly magic.


Friday night I walked by one of our windows, and I guess something caught my eye. I stopped and really looked. It was snowing! I informed Paul of the weather condition in a tone that can only be described as something akin to the nosey neighbor, Gladys, on Bewitched. “Aaabbnerrrr”


Madi Facetimed us Friday night. She had been getting ready for bed and saw the snow. She immediately changed clothes and went outside. She was like a kid in a candy store. There was snow, and she had no supervision. That meant she could break the rules. And yes, there are snow rules. At least there were when I was growing up. First of all, she went out at night. Rule #1 clearly states one can only go out during daylight hours.


Rule #2 says one must wait until it warms up. Last night it was 22 degrees with a “real feel” of 16 degrees. Part of breaking this particular rule may have occurred in tandem with the breaking of Rule #1.


Rule #3 is probably one of the most adhered to rules, and that is that one must wait until it stops snowing before going outside. Otherwise it’s like playing in the rain; you get wet all over. One final flouting of the law was the fact that immediately upon entering said winter wonderland, the accused flopped down and made a snow angel. It is common knowledge that this is the last act one commits before heading inside due to all the snow down one’s back.


Not a single rule did she follow, and she was happier for it. As adults we sometimes put restrictions around things that don’t necessarily need restrictions. We don’t do it to be mean; we do it because as adults, we are the ones who deal with the cleanup, the sore throats, the aftermath, whatever else that might entail, and we are tired.


George Bernard Shaw is credited with the quote, “We don’t quit playing because we grow old. We grow old because we quit playing.” And it’s quite true. Some of the youngest people I know are well into their 70s, but they haven’t forgotten how to play.


I remember many years ago when we had a lot of snow, the good kind with a layer of ice on top. Madi was very young, and Paul and I took her out sledding down the big hill that makes up the road behind our house. The ice allowed us to clock some pretty high speeds down the hill. As soon as we hit the bottom, we would jump off and run as best we could up the hill to do it again. It felt just like being a kid again. We were laughing hard and out of breath, but we kept telling ourselves “just one more run”. It was one of the best times ever.


For the sake of our health, both physical and mental, we all may need to put a little more play back into our lives, have a little more fun. And in the interest of that: snowball fight at my house this afternoon!!


Disclaimer: For my brother and sister-in-law and others who live in New Hampshire and measure their snow in FEET, my stories of the joy and magic of snow may not be applicable!





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