The morning awakened us in white. A layer of snow, thin this time, settled on the limbs of trees and the ground that protected roots from the icy grips of winter.
Out on the highway, I was left thankful of the plows. The black-tarred road bared by these machines allowed my drive to work safe.
Seven minutes later, I turned right to a street, where one corner bears a Mexican restaurant; the next corner, a firehouse. I parked the car along the grassy curb, beneath the watch of an old maple tree. The cold breeze had started to blow and I brave the weather in layers of clothing¾ thermals, a long-sleeve shirt, a sweater and a coat¾ all secured in the wrap of a scarf around my neck.
Would the kids be sent outside? Would they play at all?
My thoughts of the weather and the welfare of the children all played in my head as my shoes sank in shallow pools of frigid water.
Making it inside, I thawed in the heat emitted by the vents. In the hallway, I walked passed bulletin boards after bulletin boards. None bore suggestions of winter, but of students talking about their heroes, science and varying faces of George Washington- clipped and glued out of art paper and cotton balls.
Soon, the bell resounded, vanquishing the kids out in the cold and white-covered fields.
“Snow…snow,” they screamed. They packed and rolled balls of it. Miniature like a bowling ball at first, then growing and growing until they grew to heights passed the children who made them.
All around us, dotting the play field, were boulders of snow balls. The kids pushed and rolled some more, patting the ice and shaving it smooth. Older kids helped the younger kids. Younger kids helped the older ones. Some kids sought my help and some turned to Lisa’s. We stopped till we couldn’t muster the strength to roll the boulder-sized balls.
The beauty around spoke to me. Though they were just snow balls, everyone helped in the creation of it. When one kid needed help pushing, other kids rushed to his or her side, heaving till they couldn’t heave any longer. No age nor gender dictated such deed to help. Everyone was willing to achieve something gargantuan.
I was proud of that cold, breezy day. How I wished I had my camera to capture the scene - the white field dotted with five massive snow balls; the architects that built them dwarfed by their size.
I guess it all boils down to this. It wouldn’t hurt if we look at how kids do things. They never second guess in helping each other out, they have fun in the ordinary, and they pitch in in making their own world a better place.
