It had snowed. Enough to cover the grass. It never snowed that much in Lubbock. I was privy to the scene first, as for reasons that still escape me, thawing the family rabbits’ water bottles in the pre-dawn days of winter was my job alone. And in order to be ready for school on time, I had to rise before my sisters.
After the completion of the chore, I admired the rare moment of scenic beauty. It almost seemed a tragedy to walk through it, so I made some snowballs at the lawn’s periphery. The snow packed well, as it was barely below freezing. I rolled some larger snowballs.
But there wasn’t sufficient time to build. I needed to get ready for school.
The snow would be long-since melted by the time school let out. So I did what I often longed for whenever I saw movies with snow in them. I walked across the lawn. It was my first recollection of such an experience, and for that momentary transit, I felt like I was truly in the wilderness.
Then I saw my sister’s judging stare from the window, obviously displeased that I had destroyed the perfection. But it was jealousy. She didn’t wake up early enough to have time to play in the snow, so instead she channeled her disappointment at me, for having the audacity to ruin the one way she was able to enjoy the snow: from the window.
It was my snow and I didn’t have to share it. It was my moment. It was my experience.
I smiled knowingly, and mockingly, back at her.
And the snow was gone by the time school let out.
–Simon