The First Snow

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snowflakeLast year I was not thrilled with my English teacher. This one is already so much better in every way possible. Including that we have creative writing assignments. The first one was to write about a natural event. Here is what I came up with. Can you tell I kind of what snow? Enjoy…


Twenty years ago I was huddled against my own mother as the wind threw the snow against the window. I curled my seven-year-old body up under the thick wool blanket. “Mommy,” I whispered, “when is Daddy going to get home?”

“He will be in the morning, just try to fall asleep.” I woke up the next morning and my eyes flew open as I remembered that Daddy was supposed to be home. After checking high and low around the house, I concluded that my daddy was still not home. Peeking out the window I saw that we now had eight feet of snow, making yesterday’s amount look measly at five feet.

I can remember the feeling I had when I saw that first flake of the season fall. It was during school and I couldn’t focus. My mind began racing as I thought about the first sled races, the first snowmen, the first snowball being thrown, and the first person to run into the warmth of the house after a snowball to the face. I was so lost into my daydream that I missed the announcement of school being let out early because of a major snowstorm coming.

I raced home that afternoon, unable to contain my excitement. “Don’t leave your bag in front of the doorway! I’ve told you hundreds of times!” my mommy yelled. I proceeded to kick the bag to the side and grab a freshly baked cookie on the way to the couch and T.V. The newsperson flashed onscreen warning everyone to stay inside because of the approaching storm.

“Mommy, can I go skating on the pond by Julie’s?”

“What did the newsperson just say, Hannah? No, you are to stay inside with me.”

“But what about Daddy? He isn’t home yet.”

“I know, but your father can take care of himself. Besides, I’m sure he is on his way home now.” Realizing that I didn’t know where my skates were, I didn’t push Mommy further. Instead, I turned my attention to the window and quickly became mesmerized by the falling snow. Since I left school an hour ago we had quickly accumulated close to a foot.

Three hours and two-and-a-half-more-feet later, with the wind and the snow only getting stronger, I was glad my mommy did not let me go skating. Daddy, however, was still not home. The darker it got, the more worried I became. Mommy tried to keep me distracted with lots of games, but I could tell by the way she jumped at any footstep or knocking of a tree that she was nervous, too.

By dinnertime, the power had already been out for half an hour and we had a total of four-and-a-half feet of snow. It seemed to have slowed down, and I hoped that the snow I had once dreamed about would soon be over. If it was over, Daddy could find his way home. If it was over my friends and I could play in the snow. If it were over everything would be all right. If it continued we would have to wait.

I went to bed early that night. We were up to five feet, but it had stopped snowing an hour ago. Everyone was pretty certain that the worst of the blizzard missed us. Still, I tossed and turned for hours because of the unknown. When will my daddy get home? Is he all right? How long until we can leave our houses? Will we have enough food? What will happen to Chuckles, our class hamster, if no one is there to take care of him?

Eventually I must have fallen asleep as the wind once again howling and the snow once again blowing awaked me. I crawled out of bed and went into Mommy and Daddy’s room. She wasn’t there. Slowly I made my way downstairs where I thought Mommy would be. Sure enough she was sleeping on the couch fully dressed awaiting Daddy’s much delayed arrival. Carefully, I lifted her blanket and snuggled in close to her. I huddled against my mommy as the wind threw the snow against the windows. I curled my seven-year-old body up under the thick wool blanket and fell back asleep.

That was twenty years ago was the winter we were all stuck for a week. It was the winter we were out of power for close to a month. This winter was the one where my mother and I worried about my dad for three days straight until he was able to call us and tell us that he was all right. He was at work sleeping over for a week straight, not wanting to risk the weather the first night and then having to deal with the roads being closed down. Now in this cold winter’s night, I lay with my sleeping three-year-old twins against my chest as I watch the first snowflake of the season drift to the ground.

What do you think?