snow day

This morning there were four little girls with brightly colored backpacks standing in a line at the corner, trying to look mature. They were up to their knees in snow, the falling flakes were sticking to their eyelashes, and for all they knew they weren't standing at the corner, like they were told, but in the street. When you're four feet tall and up to your knees in snow, it's hard to be mature, so they were fidgeting, giggling, and letting their feet sink in further, all the while yelling assurances to their guardian down the street. They weren't playing, per se, but they'd certainly rather be standing here than in school.

I felt a similar jubilation upon stepping outside of my apartment this morning before a path on the sidewalk had been cleared, so I didn't mind walking up to my calves in snow next to them; they were standing in the path the footprints before them had already made.

It's the biggest snowstorm of the year and my two roommates and I all have snow days. We're cooped up inside with the heat, the snow drifted around all the windows, and there's a tiny knot of excitement in all our stomachs. We're trying to be mature, too.