Thursday, January 22, 2015

Snow Ball





School dismissed early yesterday because of the snow fall and started late today because of ice.  The kids took this news with what can only be described as a possible scrolling side effect from one of the pharmaceuticals for mood disorders advertised on TV. May cause WILD EUPHORIA. 

They went all landscape artist Andrew Goldsworthy on the soft, perfect-for-skiing-if-I-didn't-have-spinal-osteoarthritis white blanket of new fallen snow in the backyard, tunneling like colorful moles in their neon-colored snow pants. They would dive in one place and pop up another.  "Hey, Mom!" said my son, 9, "Watch me awesomely snowboard on a cookie tray!"

My daughter made a snow man ("it's a girl, Mom," she said, emphatically feminist) with a smile made from a branch of willow, a smile that looks like the Mona Lisa. "Her name is Lulu. No wait, her name is Peaches."

They were so full of brightness. Their cheeks were roses. In my slippers I looked at them through the kitchen window as I whisked the hot chocolate they'd requested for after their endeavors and thought, Could I but plug in to that source! My extremities are always cold.


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