I blink.

My hazel eyes still groggy from sleep, light up. I open my bedroom window to feel the first frosty flakes of the season, brisk on the edge of my sausage nose. My ears chill as they catch more wind because of their size and orientation. I love the first snow of winter.

My brothers are doing the same ritual in their rooms. My eldest brother is 17, but a kid at heart, and is too excited about this snow day. My other brother, who is 16, couldn’t care less. My approach towards the window is different, it is filled with wonder and joy. The first time I peer out the window, the window itself disappears.  I am in the snow, feeling the winter wonderland.

My eyelashes flutter, every single snowflake dances, teasing me with the happy and playful nature it portrays. As they dance they reflect, not only an image of myself,  but also the image of the times I had spent with my family on days like this. Memories of my two canine companions who passed away, they jump in the snow leaving behind footprints. They also reflect glimpses of what is to come with a new dog, his paws making new prints. Times when the whole extended family gets together to feast and play in the snow. I love the first snow of winter.

My brothers and I start planning, the house becomes a buzz of activity. We quickly put on our snow gear. My wool hat covers my rust colored hair. 

I could see it in my brothers eyes their excited to play in the snow too.

I coordinate with them, “Each of us will build a snow ball and then form a big half circle in the middle of the yard,” I shout not realizing my own tone.

My eldest brother agrees, “Then we can repeat until there is a big circle of massive snowballs in the middle of the yard for us to play king of the hill on.”

My other brother stays silent begrudgingly listening to our instructions. Until he breaks his own silence and barks “Can we just get to it ladies?”

We roll and get the job done, when we stand back and look at our work, we do the only thing we planned to do, play until the sun goes down.

On my way back into my warm house anticipating my mother’s warm hugs and a freshly made cup of hot chocolate. I turn around and blink again, refreshing the beautiful scene before me, all of the monuments in my familiar yard have been covered in a thin layer of either snow or ice. A stone heightens the snow, elevated from all the rest like a muffin top. The terrain changed from lumpy yard, to a soft blanket covering the grounds.

With wonder and awe I speak to myself doing my best not to disturb the sleeping nature, “This is amazing”  It’s truly mesmerizing, I think. Things that seem important the day before have vanished in my mind. All of the fun in the world was in my backyard. It really makes one appreciate the little things in life. I love the first snow of winter.