It is blizzarding.
Not snowing. Blizzarding.
There was a whiteout next to my window just hours ago, and now the snow is still falling but the twilight and artificial lighting have mellowed everything to a beautiful violet... it's really something, to turn off the fluorescent lamp and just look out into the increasingly frozen world...
And I am reminded of that truly fantastic blizzard seven years ago. 2003... Boy, does anybody else remember that? The snow was so deep I had to lean in with all of my eleven-year-old weight going to the mailbox that first day of the storm. The first day! I had the tiny mail key in one massive, cumbersome gloved hand and my mom's warning - don't drop it, careful! We won't find it until July - in my ears, covered by two hats and the hood of that ridiculous down coat that made me look like King Midas' campfire marshmallow... Chest deep in snow! I'm sure there is a photograph somewhere...
I was talking to somebody about it today. This morning. She said her family had had house guests that weekend, and they all went out her front door to go sledding after the first few feet descended ... she tripped over their car and went skidding across the street, and all the way over to the other side!
Yes indeed, that was a great week. School off entirely! And right on the heels of a long weekend... That was fantastic. Every single morning, the three Abner girls and I would go into the park and build massive snow forts with plans to have intense battles that afternoon. Every morning - starting the first day they came over - we lent them all of our winter jackets. They had just moved from some warm state that begins with the letter A - Alabama, Arizona, Arkansas maybe - just like their own names, actually - well, the state was flat, I know that much - and had no winter clothes whatsoever. And every day they borrowed these huge down jackets, none so ridiculously mythological as mine, but all of us in a row certainly looked like we'd just jumped from a Jet Puffed bag, planning to dive in between two graham crackers and a Hershey's square at any moment ...
Not that the ground was nearly dry enough for a fire.
We froze, around lunch, every day, five days in a row; went to my house for a warm lunch, and played computer games - Lego Island, the Game of Life, Spongebob, maybe even the Oregon Trail! - while our real marshmallows grew saturated with hot chocolate and our marshmallow skins dried by the fireplace and our forts filled up with the ever-falling snow...
By the time we were warmer, we were so cozy we didn't want to go outside, and convinced ourselves that by the rate the snow was falling, our forts were gone anyhow, so there was no use, and we might as well create a new Lego character or go around the Life board once more at least... so we stayed huddled around that square of cold white light, that source of indoor amusements and distractions, well into each afternoon.
They went home every evening as the day was descending into this violet, and we insisted that they wear the now-dry coats home. And it snowed overnight, while we lay awake, dreaming of a laughing war waged with snow cannon-balls and the gunpowder of thoroughly girlish enjoyment... dreaming of creating tunnels of whitewashed walls so big, we could bring in provisions and stay there, like in that movie, what was it called, with that girl who looked like the girl you always think you sit next to in Math class... with plans to ask the Abners in the morning...
And everything became another half of a foot whiter.
Of course, we began all over again the next day. The snow was endless, and we were children. We were bound to use it. No school, no obligations; only day after day of getting into our marshmallow suits and battling Mother Nature's worst - the weather that killed the souls of the pilgrims! - and finally feeling defeated and climbing into our adobe-and-brick covered wagon, to escape the bitter chill and bring the color back into our cheeks with stories so modern the pilgrims never could have imagined them...
And now, seven years later, a day like that again. A day almost like that...
Only - naturally! - there are problems. It just figures that seven years later we have an epic blizzard that falls the exact day after that one's anniversary, but the calendar puts it right on the weekend! No days of school off, for the Abners or for me... Just as well, I suppose ... I don't know where the Game of Life CD is at anymore... and it's probably not even compatible on this version of Windows! ... A modem so modern the pilgrims could never have imagined it. .. What a thought! ...
We have no more marshmallow coats in our closet, not anymore, and that snow that came to my chest would come only to my waist, now ... we are too wise to trip over the car, our skin is too tender and too clear to be hit with balls of ice, no matter how gently packed they were by however close of a friend ...
The snow melts more quickly now, or we want it to, to rush on the summer and the heat that requires no fire to dry one's socks by...
And the Abner girls have all gone somewhere, probably somewhere warmer, at least one hopes it is warmer there...
Because the Peace Corps one knows about really works chiefly on the ocean, and one has always thought the ocean is a warm place despite the fact that it stretches all the way up to the arctic and all the way down also... But she must be warmer because five years later, two years ago, she was so much prettier, not an awkward young thing; and now she must have a man anyhow, to keep her warm; and who needs a marshmallow coat when one has a man...
Because one hasn't seen the middle Abner wear a jacket in a while, though one hasn't really seen her for a while since she switched schools, or maybe she graduated, or maybe she switched schools and then graduated; it happened very quickly, it seems, so it's really quite unclear... But because one hasn't seen her wear a jacket in a while, maybe one can fool oneself into thinking she doesn't need one anymore because she is studying someplace warmer... It's entirely possible...
And...
And because in nobody's Bible do they have marshmallow coats. They just walk on marshmallows instead. And in a place where people walk on marshmallows, who would need a coat? ... Who would have a chill...?
No, the Abners are all somewhere warmer; they must be... but I wonder if they remember that blizzard, that cold and biting and relentless frost from the sky, as keenly as I do... probably more keenly, actually. I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were the case...
And then of course, the snow did melt, the summer did come, and we turned to other pastimes, those seven years ago... we found other opponents for other, warmer games; and other computer games to tickle our fancy on cold afternoons - Neopets certainly, and MySpace, perhaps, for a little while - and then Facebook of course, Facebook...
What grown-ups we consider ourselves...
What grown-ups some of us have become...
And what would I give for the days off of school; the four feet of precipitation that the city can't handle; the Abner girls back here, even in, yes, even in this colder place; the courage to invite them back to my house, to stand next to me in our marshmallow coats...
The snow is falling, and the Abner girls are probably aware of that, someplace. Wherever.
But something tells me - as I look out the window to see that the violet has faded to deep gray, punctuated only by the falling white flecks illuminated by my fluorescent streetlamps - that they won't see any marshmallow coats this season ... Or perhaps that they will, but will try not to.
Not snowing. Blizzarding.
There was a whiteout next to my window just hours ago, and now the snow is still falling but the twilight and artificial lighting have mellowed everything to a beautiful violet... it's really something, to turn off the fluorescent lamp and just look out into the increasingly frozen world...
And I am reminded of that truly fantastic blizzard seven years ago. 2003... Boy, does anybody else remember that? The snow was so deep I had to lean in with all of my eleven-year-old weight going to the mailbox that first day of the storm. The first day! I had the tiny mail key in one massive, cumbersome gloved hand and my mom's warning - don't drop it, careful! We won't find it until July - in my ears, covered by two hats and the hood of that ridiculous down coat that made me look like King Midas' campfire marshmallow... Chest deep in snow! I'm sure there is a photograph somewhere...
I was talking to somebody about it today. This morning. She said her family had had house guests that weekend, and they all went out her front door to go sledding after the first few feet descended ... she tripped over their car and went skidding across the street, and all the way over to the other side!
Yes indeed, that was a great week. School off entirely! And right on the heels of a long weekend... That was fantastic. Every single morning, the three Abner girls and I would go into the park and build massive snow forts with plans to have intense battles that afternoon. Every morning - starting the first day they came over - we lent them all of our winter jackets. They had just moved from some warm state that begins with the letter A - Alabama, Arizona, Arkansas maybe - just like their own names, actually - well, the state was flat, I know that much - and had no winter clothes whatsoever. And every day they borrowed these huge down jackets, none so ridiculously mythological as mine, but all of us in a row certainly looked like we'd just jumped from a Jet Puffed bag, planning to dive in between two graham crackers and a Hershey's square at any moment ...
Not that the ground was nearly dry enough for a fire.
We froze, around lunch, every day, five days in a row; went to my house for a warm lunch, and played computer games - Lego Island, the Game of Life, Spongebob, maybe even the Oregon Trail! - while our real marshmallows grew saturated with hot chocolate and our marshmallow skins dried by the fireplace and our forts filled up with the ever-falling snow...
By the time we were warmer, we were so cozy we didn't want to go outside, and convinced ourselves that by the rate the snow was falling, our forts were gone anyhow, so there was no use, and we might as well create a new Lego character or go around the Life board once more at least... so we stayed huddled around that square of cold white light, that source of indoor amusements and distractions, well into each afternoon.
They went home every evening as the day was descending into this violet, and we insisted that they wear the now-dry coats home. And it snowed overnight, while we lay awake, dreaming of a laughing war waged with snow cannon-balls and the gunpowder of thoroughly girlish enjoyment... dreaming of creating tunnels of whitewashed walls so big, we could bring in provisions and stay there, like in that movie, what was it called, with that girl who looked like the girl you always think you sit next to in Math class... with plans to ask the Abners in the morning...
And everything became another half of a foot whiter.
Of course, we began all over again the next day. The snow was endless, and we were children. We were bound to use it. No school, no obligations; only day after day of getting into our marshmallow suits and battling Mother Nature's worst - the weather that killed the souls of the pilgrims! - and finally feeling defeated and climbing into our adobe-and-brick covered wagon, to escape the bitter chill and bring the color back into our cheeks with stories so modern the pilgrims never could have imagined them...
And now, seven years later, a day like that again. A day almost like that...
Only - naturally! - there are problems. It just figures that seven years later we have an epic blizzard that falls the exact day after that one's anniversary, but the calendar puts it right on the weekend! No days of school off, for the Abners or for me... Just as well, I suppose ... I don't know where the Game of Life CD is at anymore... and it's probably not even compatible on this version of Windows! ... A modem so modern the pilgrims could never have imagined it. .. What a thought! ...
We have no more marshmallow coats in our closet, not anymore, and that snow that came to my chest would come only to my waist, now ... we are too wise to trip over the car, our skin is too tender and too clear to be hit with balls of ice, no matter how gently packed they were by however close of a friend ...
The snow melts more quickly now, or we want it to, to rush on the summer and the heat that requires no fire to dry one's socks by...
And the Abner girls have all gone somewhere, probably somewhere warmer, at least one hopes it is warmer there...
Because the Peace Corps one knows about really works chiefly on the ocean, and one has always thought the ocean is a warm place despite the fact that it stretches all the way up to the arctic and all the way down also... But she must be warmer because five years later, two years ago, she was so much prettier, not an awkward young thing; and now she must have a man anyhow, to keep her warm; and who needs a marshmallow coat when one has a man...
Because one hasn't seen the middle Abner wear a jacket in a while, though one hasn't really seen her for a while since she switched schools, or maybe she graduated, or maybe she switched schools and then graduated; it happened very quickly, it seems, so it's really quite unclear... But because one hasn't seen her wear a jacket in a while, maybe one can fool oneself into thinking she doesn't need one anymore because she is studying someplace warmer... It's entirely possible...
And...
And because in nobody's Bible do they have marshmallow coats. They just walk on marshmallows instead. And in a place where people walk on marshmallows, who would need a coat? ... Who would have a chill...?
No, the Abners are all somewhere warmer; they must be... but I wonder if they remember that blizzard, that cold and biting and relentless frost from the sky, as keenly as I do... probably more keenly, actually. I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were the case...
And then of course, the snow did melt, the summer did come, and we turned to other pastimes, those seven years ago... we found other opponents for other, warmer games; and other computer games to tickle our fancy on cold afternoons - Neopets certainly, and MySpace, perhaps, for a little while - and then Facebook of course, Facebook...
What grown-ups we consider ourselves...
What grown-ups some of us have become...
And what would I give for the days off of school; the four feet of precipitation that the city can't handle; the Abner girls back here, even in, yes, even in this colder place; the courage to invite them back to my house, to stand next to me in our marshmallow coats...
The snow is falling, and the Abner girls are probably aware of that, someplace. Wherever.
But something tells me - as I look out the window to see that the violet has faded to deep gray, punctuated only by the falling white flecks illuminated by my fluorescent streetlamps - that they won't see any marshmallow coats this season ... Or perhaps that they will, but will try not to.
Post a Comment