Something about snowfall makes us all like children again.
Much to the surprise of many who know me, I actually did live in snowy climates as a child. I spent the first twelve years of my life in Ohio and Colorado. Even Dallas, where I went to middle and high school, gets an annual ice storm that shuts down the city. So I’m no stranger to snow days.
As a youngster, my snow days were spent curled up inside, wearing my pajamas all day and plowing through a stack of library books (usually Baby-Sitters Club, let’s be honest). I’d read all morning, take a nap, read all afternoon. Maybe I’d watch a movie, or some episodes of Lizzie McGuire I’d already seen dozens of times. Basically, my snow days were spent indoors, warm and content.
My siblings, meanwhile, would be out in the yard with the neighbor kids. There would be snowball fights and snow angels, and if they were really lucky, someone’s dad would lug them around in a sled. I’d watch from the window, glad they were having fun but even more glad no one was forcing me to join in.
When snowstorm Jonas hit last weekend, I couldn’t have been more excited to relive the snow days of my youth. As soon as the snow started falling, I headed home for an early night. I spent all day Saturday holed up in my apartment, watching the snow fall out my window and questioning (to myself and to others) why anyone would want to be outside. I got a lot of work done before finishing the book I’d been reading (Gossip Girl), and the show I’d been binge-watching (Veep) and again turning in early.
Meanwhile, as usual, the “neighbor kids” (otherwise known as my friends, all in their mid-twenties) were outside, hurling snowballs, making snow angels and throwing themselves into snowdrifts, which I suppose is the adulthood equivalent to sledding. I watched them from Instagram and Snapchat – the windows to our modern world. I was thrilled that they were having a wonderful time, and more thrilled to be warm and cozy, surrounded by fictional friends and a mug of tea.
The next day, when the snow had stopped falling, I met up with one of those friends to watch football. He expressed regret that I hadn’t been around – that I had “missed the whole weekend.” He felt sorry for me! But even then – hearing the stories to complement the photographs, listening to the brand new inside jokes that I wasn’t a part of – I felt no regret.
I had the most delightful snow day I could have had, one that was true to my character – and to the child Leigh Anne, who still lives inside of me.
Related: A night in