And for everyone else's benefit, the real title is:
Recess.
I'm sitting at my computer, wearing a tank top and trying to cool down after being in a tiny kitchen with four burners on and a toaster oven at 425 degrees when I realize I'm being snowed on. My window's open - yes, I know, it's winter - it's open just a little bit and snow is coming through the screen landing on my bare shoulders. I say it out loud, hoping for a shriek from Taylor. Nothing. I tilt my head toward the wall and peer past the medicine cabinets that separate our desks. She has headphones on. Gilmore Girls. We're obsessed.
A few minutes later she finally shrieks and tells me to look out the window and I laugh. It's a like a little blizzard out there, and I've been watching it since I realized I'd have to wait for her attention. "This is when I want to be outside" she says, and minutes later we're madly searching for mitts, pulling on boots, buttoning up coats, not forgetting our cameras (cough cough...) and out the door we go.
The snow crunches as we walk, mostly by ourselves, down the street. It's light and fluffy and quiet. We stop and expose our fingers to icy air, capturing silver branches, and charcoal shadows, and city lights against the bright white snow and deep navy sky.
We reach the park and we're the only ones there...and out comes the child in both of us. We climb everything we can - the fountain that's been covered up for winter, the stairs that are roped off, the random ruins that are there to play in. We're (or at least I am) running and skipping and jumping through fields and paths and down slippery hills. I love the snow.
There's a pool that's also (obviously) closed for winter, and we jump into it, dance on the metal drain in the center, take pictures, twirl around. We decide to draw a picture in the snow. Taylor doesn't like the idea of a smiley face or our names or anything. So I go with a whale, and catch her off guard enough that she agrees. I stomp in the snow, drag my feet, do some fancy foot work and end up with a very elementary cross between a fish, shark, whale, and circle with a dot in the middle for an eye. We run away from the park, back toward the stairs. We've resisted the overwhelming urge to flop down in the snow in the middle of the field and stare up at the beautiful sky, lit up clouds flowing across the emptiness. I feel so full inside.
The cold is moving past our fingers and we decide it's time to head back. But as we're climbing the hill, Taylor slips, and slides back down. And she pushes away the few centimeters of fresh snow, revealing a perfectly smooth trail of ice. She runs up the hill and passes me her camera - and sitting down on the snow, gives herself a push and away she zooms. "YOU HAVE TO TRY THIS!"
I fuss about wrecking my coat, and getting wet, and walking back, but she's laughing and my heart is racing and I want the smile that she has on...so I go, and now on the path that's been completely cleared I speed over the ice and slow down in the light snow at the bottom. It reminds me of taking the crazy carpet down the hill at elementary school, or even just spending recess rolling through the green grass and blooming daisies with the other kids. I'm pretty sure the only difference between us and those kids, is that our giggles are louder, richer, and we look more ridiculous. But we keep going. We slide down on our backs, run up/fall up the hill, go down again, until we're completely soaked. This was the type of break I needed - a break from class, a break from cares, and for the first time in quiet a while I forget about all the things that 18 year-olds worry about, which 7 year-olds dont. Snow is stuck to our jeans, and boots, and our black wool jackets are certainly not black anymore. We look like abominable snowmen as we walk back to rez. I don't think we stopped laughing until we were back in our rooms warmed up. And I don't think we've stopped smiling yet.
Meet us tomorrow, 5:30 at the park.
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