Snowball Fight
As I enter my cronage, I find that winter has taken on a different meaning to me. I want to snuggle up under an afghan, drink a hot cup of coffee, and gaze out upon the snow in quiet contemplation. I don’t want anything to destroy my peace except perhaps a gentle wing against the air by a cardinal.
But school is out because the roads are covered in ice and snow and all the little hellions are trudging up the hill pulling their sleds and then zooming down screaming and laughing all the way. It is maddening and I am tempted to pour a shot of bourbon in my coffee more to calm my nerves than to warm my cold feet.
Watch them out there, screaming, laughing, driving me nuts.
Drew, the leader of this motley crew, bends over packs some snow into a ball. I can feel my hands curl up with the feeling of the cold. Wham! He hits Zeke on the back of the head. Zeke stands still. He slowly looks over his shoulder, bends down and seems to take forever as he gathers and forms his weapon from the snow. A 180 degree turn and Drew is downed in one throw.
The noise increases in pace as these winter warriors prepare to do battle. Behind my fledgling apple tree asleep till winter one tribe stands and builds their arsenal of icy revenge. While up the hill behind Yvonne’s porch, the other tribe prepares for battle.
I sigh. My quiet winter reverie has been destroyed by youth and snow. I have lost the joy of a winter day. I pull the curtains, pour that bourbon in my coffee, and turn on the Four Seasons and think of spring when my crocus will poke up through the snow and promise better days.
But school is out because the roads are covered in ice and snow and all the little hellions are trudging up the hill pulling their sleds and then zooming down screaming and laughing all the way. It is maddening and I am tempted to pour a shot of bourbon in my coffee more to calm my nerves than to warm my cold feet.
Watch them out there, screaming, laughing, driving me nuts.
Drew, the leader of this motley crew, bends over packs some snow into a ball. I can feel my hands curl up with the feeling of the cold. Wham! He hits Zeke on the back of the head. Zeke stands still. He slowly looks over his shoulder, bends down and seems to take forever as he gathers and forms his weapon from the snow. A 180 degree turn and Drew is downed in one throw.
The noise increases in pace as these winter warriors prepare to do battle. Behind my fledgling apple tree asleep till winter one tribe stands and builds their arsenal of icy revenge. While up the hill behind Yvonne’s porch, the other tribe prepares for battle.
I sigh. My quiet winter reverie has been destroyed by youth and snow. I have lost the joy of a winter day. I pull the curtains, pour that bourbon in my coffee, and turn on the Four Seasons and think of spring when my crocus will poke up through the snow and promise better days.
posted by Myriam Maytorena at 8:14 AM
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