The Precipitation that Earned My Appreciation by Genevieve Frander | Honorable Mention 2024 Rural Teen Writing Contest

My eyes drifted open to see that the early morning’s light had already seeped through my flimsy, beige curtains. Sleep still smothering my senses like a thick cloud of fog, I reluctantly heaved my body out of bed. 

Suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks, any remnants of sleep evaporating in an instant. I breathed in heavily, the air was crisp, fresh…cool. Could it be? I rushed to the window, practically ripping the curtains apart to reveal the frosted window pane behind it. Outside the window, the world was completely white with snow, as if the earth had covered itself in a large, fluffy blanket. The rooftops and yards of the few surrounding houses in our neighborhood were soft, with a milky-white hue that even the birds remained silent to admire. Yes, the outdoors was particularly peaceful and beautiful, but I had more pressing matters on my hands. 

Tearing myself away from the hypnotizing scenery, I bolted out of my room and down the stairs to the living room, an electric sort of hope shooting through my veins. I launched myself onto the couch, only to find that my little sister, Juliet had beaten me to the spot. She reached for the remote and turned the TV on in front of us. 

“Do you think it’s gonna be a snow day too, Sissy?” she asked, reflecting the anticipation I felt with her wide, youthful eyes. I shrugged, keeping my eyes glued to the local news channel. I didn’t trust myself not to say yes, for, I had an odd tingling sensation of radiant, yet lace-thin, hope in my chest that was too delicate to reveal. It was practically bursting my patience like a balloon. In simpler terms I felt a childish fear that sharing my wish would abolish its chances of coming true. I drummed my fingers rapidly on the stiff sofa, then circled along its stitching, and finally got up to pace around, having nothing left on the couch to fidget with.

After an eternity of tension, in which I stayed a statue sprawled out on the increasingly itchy rug, I couldn’t help but squirm as the list of cancelled schools was finally presented. “Madison Brooks Elementary!” I read – more like squealed – to my illiterate sister, who was not yet old enough to read, “Our snow day has officially started!” Juliet sprang off of the couch like a little rocket blasting into outer space, beaming with so much energy she might as well have been the sun instead of a rocket. 

Briefly following, we both scuttled off to our rooms to get dressed for our adventures in the chilling wonderland that awaited us outdoors. I sent my pajamas flying, ransacked my drawers, and applied layer upon layer of garments until my range of motion was similar to those of a penguin. Yes, I thought, this is going to be a magnificent day! 

I met Juliet at the front door, who looked just like a swaddled infant with her large features and tightly wrapped figure, thanks to the plethora of coats she, too, was required to wear by my mom. Hand in hand, we waddled into the snow. The freezing, yet familiar, wind howled and nipped at our exposed skin. 

We trailed through the falling snow to our neighbor’s porch and I did the honors of pushing the rustic doorbell. Even from outside, we could hear the bell’s deep tone, rich and long, causing goosebumps to emerge along my covered arms, though that might have been the cold. 

In a matter of seconds, four boys appeared in the doorway, each with a messy mop of dirty blonde hair upon their heads and smelling of seasonal soaps. Their names were Jeremy, Jonah, Jackson, and Joey, all equally rambunctious, slightly annoying, but all the same entertaining and kind boys. They, too, were dressed appropriately for the weather – smothered in blankets and coats – most likely the doing of their mother as well.

“What are we going to do in the snow first?” Jackson questioned, stepping off of the porch and into the frost and ice. He was the alpha of their pack because he was the oldest, so the younger boys followed obediently and willingly like baby ducklings to their mother. 

“What about sledding?” My proposal was immediately accepted and greeted by a small herd of adolescents trampling over each other to the garage, where the sleds were located. Less than half an hour later, we were all at the tip of a large hill, Basin Hill to be exact, as it was called by the local neighborhood children. This was because of the steep walls that surrounded the sides of a soccer field, the ones that we were about to sled down. Bravely, or so I attempted to act, I offered to sled the daring descent down into the field of sleet first. Snowflakes started to blow at my raw cheeks and nose, as if warning me to turn back, but I refused to be defied and jumped onto my unstable, wooden sled. Then whoosh, I was gone in a blur, speeding at a rapidly alarming pace down the hill, especially for my ancient bobsled that creaked and groaned over every jolt. As I continued to fly, my unease and fear melted away, that is, until I saw it. There was a large heap of snow, right in the middle of my path, it looked like a boulder, and it was clear that I would either lead to its destruction, or it would lead to mine. The impact was brutal, and I was launched airborne! Luckily, I had a million layers of protection, so when I landed with a large thud on the ground, it felt as though I had landed on a pillow and not a pile of heavily compacted snow. 

I could hear the ring of laughter chime down from the tippy-top of the hill, only to turn around and see the boys and Juliet doubled over, giggling and chuckling at my failed attempt. As I ran up the steep hill, I couldn’t help laughter from stealing out of my own shivering, blue lips. And though everything around me felt like the tundra, my insides filled with a bubbly, contagious warmth that I knew the others felt as well through their jolly chortles.

Juliet went next. Her little curls fell loose out of her hat as she sped down the mountainous landscape, bobbing up and down, truly resembling her whimsical expression. Fortunately for her, my sister’s ride was much smoother than my own, leaving her unscathed as she made her way back up the hill. 

The boys took turns sledding after, but their journeys were much less graceful than the previous rides. Jeremy shoved Joey as he descended, Jackson tugged Jonah onto his sled as he was riding by, and Joey intentionally stopped in front of Jackson’s sled, causing them both to leave with a mouthful of snow and a bruise or two. They continued to engage in whole-hearted horseplay while Juliet and I sat on a snow-covered bench nearby to watch the comical and irrational brawls. 

The brawls then turned into snowball fights, which my sister and I gladly departed the bench to take part in. I was on Jackson’s and Jeremy’s team, and Juliet was on Joey’s and Jonah’s. 

Snowballs went flying, alliances were arranged, betrayals occurred, and casualties happened in every direction. Joey was my worst nemesis, often throwing snowballs repeatedly so that I couldn’t get up from the ground, a dangerous opponent to face. 

The techniques on the different sides of the battle field – or soccer field depending on your level of imagination – were varied. My team was strategic, making our production of compacted snowballs in an assembly line, setting up a barrier for defense out of snow, and attacking only when necessary and most convenient. The other team scrambled around in the snow like chickens with their heads cut off, so you can imagine who was victorious in the end. 

Tired from our relentless combat, we trudged through the now knee-high deep snow back to the boys’ house. Upon entry, the aroma of cocoa hit me like a brick wall..It apparently hit

everyone else, as well, because we stood in the doorway for a few moments, absorbing the heat of the indoors and letting the rich smell linger around our frozen nostrils. Their mother greeted us with a tray of hot chocolate and a smile, obtaining just as much warmth. I graciously took a mug from her, and it took everything in me not to snatch it, along with the others, and run away. Marshmallows floated on the surface of the deep brown beverage, bobbing and melting as I twirled my finger around the brim of the cup. Finally, I took a sip, and the soothing liquid poured down my throat, bringing a satisfactory feeling that could only be described as pure perfection and happiness. 

Soon, it was sunset, and with our stomachs full of other culinary delights, we all parted ways. Outside once more, I fell back into the snow that molded around my figure on impact. Ever so slowly, I started to make snow angels, looking back on my day as I shifted around. I realized how lucky I was to have snow days and neighbors who frolicked and played with me. I thought of the electric emotion of joy I had felt that morning and how I got to share it with my sister. I thought of the freedom I was allowed to have to roam in the outdoors all day. 

Snowflakes gently hovered, then landed on my nose, so microscopic, but breathtaking and chilling all the same. Although my cheeks, nose, lips, and clammy fingertips were too numb to feel, a rush of gratitude circulated through my body, providing warmth. This is my home, what I love, I thought, opening my eyes widely to preserve every bit of the moment to memory, this is where I belong. And like the snow, the memory faded, but never truly disappeared.

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