I woke up this morning feeling like an eight-year-old boy. It was a simple feeling generated by the fresh snowflakes falling past my window. I stepped outside onto the crunchy packable snow with a childish grin on my face.
There was a peculiar stillness in the air that caused me to look around and notice the dark contrasting trees. Splat! Smashed my snowball against the dark wet tree. Splat! Another snowball hit, and another. Soon an image emerged of a rabbit with six-foot ears and its paws outstretched, as if it was trying to cross the finish line before the tortoise.
After laughing at my artwork, I flipped over backwards into the snow. My weight drew me closer to the ground, as I heard the snow crunch beneath my large frame like a musical score from my boyhood. I lifted my arms above my head and spread my legs apart, and then I returned to the position of a toy soldier. Back and forth I did it again, forming the perfect snow angel.
I felt large fluffy snowflakes fall on my face and stuck out my tongue for a taste. The sound of little footsteps approached through the crunching snow and stopped by my shoulder. I turned to see a little four-year-old girl standing in a pink snowsuit with fur surrounding her face. She looked down at me with a quizzical look suggesting it was time to play.
I rolled over and got onto my knees to look into her eyes. Reaching down, I swooped up a scoop of white flakes and packed it into a snowball. I handed it to the little girl and watched a big smile form on her face. She tossed it a few feet and it rolled into a slightly larger ball that gave me an idea for a bit of fun.
Little colorful mittens pressed up against the snowball to help me roll it into a larger ball. We watched the snow roll off of the grass and form another ball larger than the first, leaving a carpet of brown grass in its wake. The little mittens pressed next to my gloves, as we rolled the biggest ball of all.
I strained to lift the midsized ball onto the big one and watched the little girl try to lift the snowman’s head. With a little bit of help she was successful and we quickly placed it on the snowman’s body.
The sound of a sliding glass door was heard and we both watched in amazement, as the girl’s mother walked out in her blue fuzzy bathrobe with a carrot in one hand and a box of raisins in the other.
With approving eyes looking at me, I took the carrot and fashioned it into the snowman’s nose. Then I watched the happy woman place clumps of raisins in each of her daughter’s mittens. After a quick squeeze, her mother took the small packed clumps of raisins and placed them in the snowman’s belly forming a line of buttons for his vest.
The little girl reached high to place the remaining individual raisins into the snowman’s newly formed smile, while I grabbed a couple fallen branches and stuck them into his torso for arms.
Standing back and looking at our snowman, the little girl’s mother took the belt from her robe and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck like a scarf. I added a final touch by placing my hat on his head and we all admired our handiwork.
As we stood in silence in the freshly fallen snow, the little girl reached out her hand and gave mine a loving squeeze. After a warm smile from her mother, I watched the two disappear back into their townhome, which reminded me that it was time for breakfast.
Taking time to be a child on a snowy morning did wonders for my heart, so I took a moment to make some hot chocolate, sat by the fireplace and typed out my morning blog to share the wonders of fresh fallen snow.
Copyright © 2015 by CJ Powers