I just read The Snowy Day to my students last week, so it was fresh in my head. I was dying to go outside and play last night, but no one was around to go sledding. So I bundled up and headed to the park a block away and thought about Peter from the Snowy Day. How he made his footprints go this way and that way. (I did the same.) I made a whole row of snow angels and thought about who would see them the next day. Then I trudged home and took a bath and thought about my adventures, just like Peter.
I love snowy nights. It’s so quiet and beautiful and you feel like you’re the only person in the world outside. There’s this episode of Gilmore Girls where Lorelei is talking about how snow is magic and it makes her do crazy things, and then she has a very sweet kiss at the end of the episode with a guy she likes out in the snow. Snowy nights make me feel the same way.
When we were kids, my mom would always let me go outside and play on snowy nights, even if it was late and a school night. I’d run over to Eric and Carley’s, and then we’d go get Stephanie and Chad and have all kinds of adventures. I miss those days. Last night when I was texting people to try to get them to hang out, everyone was busy. It makes me sad that everyone’s all grown up and won’t just drop everything to play. But I didn’t let that stop me; I had a lovely time.
Now today, I am dying of the flu. Ryan insists that it’s because I was playing out in the cold last night, and I was like, what are you, my grandma? Cold doesn’t make you sick; germs do.
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