Snow Day

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This month’s prompt is to write a poem or story in which one of the characters is a weather, personified—either implicitly or explicitly.

Today’s story comes to us from Val Muller, author of the kidlit Corgi Capers mystery series. Find out more at corgicapers.com

 ***

Snow Day

by Val Muller

 

Sitting at my desk in the darkness of night,
The fatigue weighs heavily:
Maybe it’s the time change that makes
The sun seem to set just past noon,
Or maybe something else.

Papers to grade,
Papers to grade,
Lessons to plan.

This year: so tough,
Students struggling
Post-pandemic.

Post?

Not quite.

They sit together,

Isolated,

Forgotten how to socialize,
Forgotten how to care.

They need extra
Motivation,

Help,

Support.

Demand is constant.

In my office, the sun has sunk away.

The room is blue, a computer’s glow.

I reach for the lamp

When I see a face pressed against the glass

Of the office door.

 

Can I come in, Mommy?

 

Yes, honey. I’m just trying

To finish some work before bed.

 

Mommy, this year you are

Always trying to finish work.

Do you want to play with me?

 

Of course I do, but this work

Won’t do itself.

If I don’t do this now,

There’ll be no lesson tomorrow,

No plan for the morning.

I’m barely keeping up.

 

But I say: “In a minute.”

 

Mommy, I was born in a blizzard.

 

I know. It’s a fact

She tells anyone who will listen.

The pride of her four years.

 

Yes, you know, but did you know

I have blizzard powers?

 

What kind of powers?

 

I’m an ice princess.

 

Of course. I nod. She’s watched

Frozen one too many times.

Why don’t you go watch a movie?

Or ask Dad to read to you?

 

She looks me deep in the eye and shakes her head.

No movie, Mommy.

 

Maybe go color, then?

 

She likes that.

She skips to her marker bin,

Presses paper against the window,

And colors,

Leaving me again to misery.

I turn on a lamp

And knock out only a handful of essays

When she returns,

A glowing ice princess wand

Illuminating my room.

 

So many teachers absent.

Always asked to substitute

Instead of plan

Grade

Pee

Breathe.

 

I love my profession, but I’m not sure

How much longer I can—

 

This controls my magic,

She says, waving the LED wand.

 

That’s nice, honey. I have

Twelve more essays, then I’m done,

And when I go in tomorrow—

 

I’m an ice princess, you know.

 

Twelve more.

 

I have powers. Grownups don’t believe,

But they’ll know when they see—

 

She returns to her window and

Colors frantically.

Somewhere between twelve to go

And finished, I nod off in my chair.

 

An hour later, the house is dark.

I have a second wind and knock out

The essays,

Plan for tomorrow,

Pack my lunch,

And start upstairs.

 

But the window.

 

I see that she hadn’t in fact

Taped paper to the window.

She colored the window itself

With every color of blue marker

In the house.

 

Pad to the kitchen, grab cleaner,

Paper towels, patience.

The blue comes off the glass easily.

I shake my head at her

Childlike frivolity.

I know I was like her once,

Having that sense of wonder, where

Everything’s magical

And amazing,

And nothing would stop me

From coloring on glass.

I don’t know when that spirit

Dies in us, but I guess it does.

 

The window’s clean.

 

A deer darts across the lawn,

Triggering the neighbor’s porch lamp.

My eye shifts focus from the window glass

To the yard beyond.

 

My jaw drops.

It’s only November.

How?

 

The snow is heavy and

Already settling across the driveway

And covering the grass.

If this continues…

 

No way we have school tomorrow.

 

I check on her before heading to bed

As the wind picks up, kissing the windows.

The unexpected weather gives me

An unexpected shudder

And thrill:

 

That strange electric sense of

Being alive—

 

And suddenly I remember

What it is like to be a child.

 

My daughter snuggles in her bed,

Her snow wand aglow,

A knowing smile on her face.

 

It’s not even Thanksgiving,

But I find my Christmas pajamas

And put them on, imagining

A lazy morning tomorrow with

Hot chocolate

Maybe pancakes

Maybe a movie about

A snow princess.

 

And as tired as I am,

I can’t help but feel

That sense of excitement

That children have,

That electric sense of being alive,

Of being covered in

The magic of the world,

That makes it so difficult

To fall asleep
At night.

 

 

***

The Spot Writers—Our Members:

Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/