Gail loves snow, but the big, black drifting clouds won’t open up. ‘Lord, let those white flakes fall on me. I’ll help Dad shovel the driveway, clean off his car. It’s almost spring and my sled is still in the basement. It’s going to rot if I don’t take it out for a ride. Please, please. Amen.’ She finishes her chores, fixes a hot chocolate for herself and longingly looks up at the sky. Maybe god heard her or the clouds bumped each other, she doesn’t know, but there they are cold, wet magical flakes floating gently to earth.
‘Ma, Ma, I just spoke to god and he heard me. I asked him for snow and look it is snowing. I’m bringing up my sled!’ Her mother isn’t looking forward to the mess, the shoveling, the bits of ash that manage to sneak thru the fireplace grill. ‘Great, Gail. Call Jenny to meet you outside for a snow battle in about four hours. Maybe there’ll be enough snow by then and you can ride your sled–double decker. Will you bring in two or three starter logs before you call Jenny–just in case?’
Gail doesn’t have to be asked twice. The sled leans against the brick wall in the car port, the snow shovel leans on that and the logs are neatly in the basket next to the den fireplace. ‘Ma, look how hard it’s coming down. I’m calling Jenny.’ Before she can speed dial, the phone rings. ‘Hi, Honey, let me talk to your mother.’ He always says ‘your’ mother and I don’t like it, just Mother is enough. ‘Bess, the weather is already rough in town. The streets are slippery. I’ll be home early.’
Gail meets Jenny on the lawn that was brown and dry this morning and is now angel white. Upturned faces, tongues sticking out, taste the snow. Jenny scrapes a handful of snow off the hedges and manages to stuff it down Gail’s back. ‘Rat, I’ll get you for that,’ and chases her friend home. ‘See ya later.’
Gail tries to clear the driveway for Dad but it won’t stay clear long. The snow falls and falls, blows in drifts that shift and shift. Gail is in heaven. The temperature falls and the snow becomes sleet. She is a prisoner in her own house until morning. The sun rises at 7:30 this week but doesn’t begin to show any light until 8. Icicles hang from the roof, from trees. The neighborhood is asleep. No cars move. An icy crust covers the front steps, the driveway. She turns on the TV. and the weatherman is smiling. ‘The storm has passed and we will warm up to 39 by noon and by evening the whole ugly mess will be gone.’
Gail goes back to her favorite window seat and sadly looks up at the still gray sky. She can’t help herself and chastises god. ‘Lord, I asked you for snow and thought you sent it to me, but that was a tease. You gave it and took it away too fast. I’m mad.’ Thinking it over she adds a P.S.
‘I’m sorry, god. I do forgive you. Now if you forgive me, I promise to go to services Saturday without Ma making me go. Do we have a deal?
No answer.
No comments:
Post a Comment