One Snowy Walk

Basically this is a story about a family. It's kind of about the bad parts, but mostly it's about the good parts.

One Snowy Walk

The trees tower over them, those three small figures, with their boots crunching through the snow.  They seem smaller to me now than they have ever before and I wonder if it’s because the trees are so tall or if they have actually been shrunk by the loud voices and vicious words of that house. I have vicious words of my own that I wish I was brave enough to say.

If I could I would say that they were stupid for bringing three little kids into an angry marriage that wasn’t even going to last a year. And I would say it was cruel to inflict this marriage on me, me who is actually old enough to understand their fights beyond the raised voices and unchecked anger. I would tell them that they are parents so for goodness sake start acting like it. But their words and raised voices have made me small too, and I know these are things that I will never have the courage to say.

As I watch, those small figures get smaller, the distance between us gets longer and I call out, “not too far.” Their steps are unnaturally quiet in the absence of their usual raucous energy, yet strangely loud as the crunch of the snow echoes through the trees. My sudden call seems shocking in this stillness, but they continue walking, ignoring me completely.

They never listen. I’m suddenly feeling less sad and a lot more annoyed. My initial excitement about becoming a big sister has long since worn off. It’s been worn away by their whining, and yelling, and crying, and pestering, as well as their inability to properly use Kleenex.  

But it’s not all bad I guess. Tracy wants nothing more than to be like me, and Brandon can be incredibly sweet (he split his Oreo with me just last night) and Benny… is the most adorable three-year-old in the world. But they really do need Kleenex.

I guess I have to make them come back. Trudging through the snow wasn’t what I had in mind when I brought them outside, but it’s worth it to get them away from the fighting. Resignedly I set off down the path, “Come back and play near the house,” I say as I approach, though they are still resolutely ignoring me. I’m closing in on them when suddenly I’m shrieking and flailing as my feet shoot out from under me.

My shriek is cut short with a great “oof!” as I land flat on my back. I’m fine, what with all of the stupid snow to break my fall, but I lie there for a moment, shocked by the unexpected change from vertical to horizontal.  Then I hear laughter. Laughter directed at me.

Now I’m not annoyed, I’m mad. I jerk to a sitting positing, ready tell them off, but scream instead as half the Arctic’s worth of snow falls down the back of my coat. I scramble to my feet amidst gales of laughter, but I’m oblivious as I grab the back of my coat pulling it away from me. The snow begins to melt and runs, freezing, down my back. It’s so cold I’m almost crying as I jump up and down to dislodge the polar ice cap between my shoulders. But they’re crying too, I realize, but from laughing.

I bend over, grab my jacket by the collar, and start shaking my butt in the air like I’m trying to get the snow back out that way it went in. The whole time I watch them out of the corner of my eye. I see Benny fall over into the snow clutching his stomach and giggling uncontrollably. Tracy points at my butt and struggles to draw breath.

I wiggle my butt for another few seconds then stop, drop, and roll. Inappropriate for the situation perhaps, but they laugh even louder than before. I keep going for another few minutes, completing several more contortions. By the time I stop they’re all gasping, shrieking and giggling uncontrollably with tears frozen on their round, rosy cheeks. I lie exhausted on the ground with way more snow in my jacket than there was to start with, but I’m laughing just as hard.

The snow melts in my jacket and freezes in my hair as we all calm down.  “I’m freezing,” I say, “Time to go inside.” They complain but do as I say. Tracy takes my hand as we walk back, Brandon skips and Benny keeps breaking into random fits of giggles.

At the house I open the mud room door on silence. As I am helping the little kids out of their snow things I notice Benny’s nose is running unchecked. I hand him one of the Kleenex I always keep in my pocket.