I’ve never
known what it was like to enjoy the snow or cold; when everyone talked about
all the good times they had; hot chocolate with little puffy marshmallows, hot
soup that warmed you from the inside out after an afternoon of fun and sledding
down snow covered hills; making snowmen with carrots for noses, buttons for
eyes and cranberries for lips; walking down the street on Christmas Eve, while
everyone’s voices harmonized beautifully to traditional Christmas carols; kind
of made me feel envious. Had I really missed all that much?
I love my parents, I really
do, but they had never permitted me to take a step outside during the snow and
cold. Frail and sickly as a child my parents had always coddled me and been
overly protective; a sneeze had usually meant a nosebleed that had them rushing
me to the hospital; spending time outside in the hot sun had me running
temperatures so high I’d start convulsing.
The seasons had passed me by
and all I’d known of them was what I could see either from the living room
window or on the way to the doctor’s office.
The way momma dressed me
always had everyone laughing at me; the neighbor kids and my siblings. My body
was covered from head to foot with just enough of my eyes uncovered so I could
see where I was going. I don’t think any of the neighborhood kids even knew
what I looked like until I tried to sneak outside to sit on the porch when I
was 10 years old.
The worst time of the year
had always been winter. The first time I watched the Christmas Story with Peter
Billingsly I doubled up laughing like a hyena. That was the exact same way
momma had dressed me just to get me to the car while poor daddy struggled to
fit me in the back seat, what with me not being able to put my arms down and
all.
Why do people say they feel
like they’re on the outside looking in? For me it was the opposite. I was on
the inside looking out wondering what it would be like to run through the
powdery snow or to never be sick again or even to catch a snowflake on my
tongue and feel it melting as it ran down my throat.
My childhood memories of
winter were of me pressing my face against the window as I watched the kids
screaming with laughter, their noses runny from the cold and their cheeks
cherry red as little puffs of air passed their lips while working hard on
misshapen snowmen as their parents helped.
As an adult, even though I
rarely got sick now, I continued to confine myself to the house, unless I had
to go to work; even then I would wrap myself up tightly and make sure my face
was covered before walking out the door.
Yesterday my sister Shelly
caught me with my face pressed against the window watching the kids frolic in
the snow. She’d whispered something in her husband Darryl’s ear and off they’d
gone, on a mission from God, according to her.
This morning after breakfast
she’d hurried me into my bedroom and told me to dress warmly and then presented
me with an early Christmas gift; a purple, down winter coat, with matching
gloves, scarf, cap and boots. Panicking a bit, I reminded her that I’d never
gone out into the snow unless I was completely protected.
“Silly sister, snow is for
enjoying and for letting your inner kid out and I think it’s way past time for
you,” she’d smiled.
After much hemming and
hawing from me, we finally walked out onto the back porch together while my
nieces and nephews cheered.
My brother Patrick cleared
his throat and presented me with another gift, an adult sized sled. That was a
bit too much for my first time out and I almost lost my nerve. It took a bit of
coaxing from Pat and Shelly, but I finally put myself in their hands and
followed them to the top of the hill in the back yard. Looking down the hill
(it was a long way down after all) I looked from one to the other and huffed,
“If I die you’re both gonna get it,” and crawled in between both of them. I
held on for dear life and screamed as Darryl pushed us off. I don’t remember
when the scream turned to laughter, but it did.
All I saw on our way down
was a blanket of white powder with snowmen dotting the landscape and I could
hear the whistling of the wind as it rushed passed my ears. We finally reached
the bottom, but someone’s snowman had lost its life in our journey down that
hill.
We landed with a thump, our
faces covered in snow and for the first time I knew what the kids had been
feeling all those years ago. Tumbling off the sled unto my back, my eyes
sparkling, my nose runny and my cheeks as red as cherries, I shouted, “Let’s go
again!!” and ran back up the hill as fast as my legs could carry me.
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This was written for Short Story Slam Week 24: Life Behind the Corners of Your Smiles.
Please visit the site and read some really amazing stories and poems from really gifted writers and maybe next time you can submit one of your pieces. Blessings!
