There was a time not so long ago when a snow day meant so much more to me than scraping off my car, fighting the roads on my way into work, and wondering if or when my boss would send us home early. It feels almost like yesterday, but really, IT WAS 25 F#$KING YEARS AGO!? Excuse me while I collect myself.
Time's passage notwithstanding, snow days used to mean so much more to me. That inkling of responsibility school gave me suddenly vanished. I had a day of freedom! But this was no ordinary day of freedom, for outside the world turned into a snowy, pristine canvas, ripe with so many possibilities. Snow men would rise from the icy womb of my backyard. The neighborhood kids would unite into factions, breaking out the great snowball war. Snow caves and forts would become our shelters from the cold, and when our shelters could no longer sustain us, hot chocolate awaited us inside.
Afterwards, we could watch out the window at the falling snow. If the snow was letting up, we'd pray to the snow gods that it would freeze enough to prevent the school superintendant from leaving his driveway, ensuring one more day of freedom. If the snow continued to fall, we wondered and we dreamed of what another new blanket of snow would bring. More wars to fight. More snow creatures to sculpt.
But more than anything, snow days showed me a very different look at the world, a look that sticks with me even today. My crazy little world turns cold and frozen. It gets really quiet and still. A calm settles over everything, bringing the city together inside a white shell. It might be a little cheesy to think this way, but hopefully, it keeps you a little warm. Memories are like that.