pilgrims

The months had gone by, and winter came.  The hours became darker; the sun rose at seven thirty and set at four o’clock, and high noon cast a shadow that felt like sunset.  I didn’t understand that this was why my parents always seemed to be in a gloom during these winter months, that this was why the energy of the entire family seemed to lull. 

We’d get home from school, and it was time for dinner then time for bed.  It was earlier than usual, but we didn’t care; the darkness seemed to creep into our minds and bodies, causing us all to realize that there was nothing better than sleep.

But then the weekend came.  My father, my sister and I slept late every Saturday, recovering from the week of alarm clocks and my mother’s call of “Cathy!  Susan!  Time to get up!”  My mother and brother were up at the crack of dawn as usual, something the rest of could not comprehend.  Even at the young age we were, our sleeping patterns were already established.

Once the rest of us got up, our mornings usually consisted of making our own breakfasts and watching cartoons.  At about eleven o’clock, when the cartoons ended, we had to decide what to do with the day. 

This weekend was different.  This weekend it had snowed.  We had had a deep, long snow earlier in the week, the absolute worst type of snow to come on a school day.  We had spent the last four days staring out at the snow during class, unable to go out and play.  By the time we got home it was too dark to go outside, so we’d had to wait.

But then it was Saturday.  And Saturday meant we could play.  There were no cartoons that Saturday.  By the time my sister and I woke up, my brother was wearing his snowpants, with his bright red mittens, attached by a knitted string, draped around his neck.

He impatiently waited as we ate our breakfast and changed out of our flannel nightgowns and into jeans, thick socks, and baggy turtleneck sweaters. 

We came downstairs and by that time he’d put his purple hat on, and was zipping up his jacket.  Cathy and I got into our bright pink and lobster red snowpants, and all three of us put on our boots.  Putting on our boots was never an easy task, our mobility being hindered by the bulky layers previously donned.  My mother gave us all plastic bags, with which we lined our boots in case of the most likely event we got snow down our shoes.

And then we were ready.  We opened the door and walked down the three icy cement steps into the white winter wonderland.  The crisp air hit our scarf covered faces like a splash of cold water, our noses immediately tensing and inhaling the fresh winter scent.

This was our first time playing in the snow at our new house, and we didn’t know where to go first.  Do we go onto the ice? Do we walk through the woods? Do we play on the swing?  We decided to walk around and scope out the prospects.  We were delighted to learn that the hill down to the lake which was awkward during the summer made an excellent sledding hill, and the frozen ice made a perfectly flat landing ground. 

This snow was deep.  To our short legs the drifts were impossible to walk through.  Wandering around this uncharted territory we felt like explorers of a new land, discovering new and exciting facets of the world.  How deep was the snow by the fallen log? What did the big maple tree look like, covered in a white blanket?  Exactly how high were the piles made by the snowplow?  Could we find the ball we’d left in the front yard? We were sure we’d left it right by the shed, but decided someone must have stolen it. 

After an hour of exploring we were exhausted, tredging through the two foot snow having made our short legs work more than they were used to.  We fell onto the ground, sinking into the whiteness in a way that, to us, defied gravity.  We could fall and not get hurt! 

We spread our arms and legs and desperately tried to make snow angels, but realized the snow had melted too much for our tired and jello limbs.  So we just lay there, looking up into the gray sky, feeling strangly warm and cold at the same time. 

“Don’t fall asleep!” my sister warned. “People who fall asleep in the snow sometimes don’t ever wake up!”

We made sure to keep our eyes wide open.