On many a winter snowy morning, my sister and I would huddle next to the radio at six a.m. waiting for precious words of liberation.  Mr. Robertson, the radio personality, would drag through what song he’d played, the station jingle, and the weather report, “Still snowing, five inches through the night and not stopping.  We’re expecting continued snow down to 4,500 feet.” My heart would quicken, knowing that our magic number was 5,500 feet, the elevation of my hometown.  Still, it seemed he would never get to the school reports!  Finally, he would say with a dramatic breath, “And for our school reports, school is….” My sister and I would lean into the radio, our eyes squinched shut, shooting silent prayers up in mad bursts, “CLOSED.”  Screeches of joy inevitably ensued.  Glowing, we clicked off the radio and crawled back into bed, sleeping until the light came through the cracks of our bedroom blinds.  Then, the real holiday would begin. 

We generally had only one or two snow days a year in our little town in Northern Arizona.  Since my parents were teachers, it meant that our entire family was suddenly together and free for one snowy day.  Amazingly, my parents and the other parents in our neighborhood would become children with us for the day.  I will never forget the snow day when our neighbor Terri put the snow chains on her little Volkswagon station wagon and tied an inner tube to the back bumper.  She pulled all of us around the cul-de-sac for the better part of an afternoon.  Those snowy days were celebrations of the gift of time.  Time for our family, time to thank God, and time to play together. 

          I haven’t thought about snow days in quite some time, I must admit.  We don’t have many, if any, snow days here in Virginia.  But as I recently remembered those snowy celebrations, I realized that I could have a snow day with my children any day I wanted.  It might not include snow, but the snow only provided a reason and excuse for us to be free.  I realized I could choose to celebrate time for our family, time to thank God, and time to play together.  The snow is not the dominant picture I see when I think of snow days.  What I really see is the laughing face of my father as he dodges to the right, just being missed by a snowball.  I see my sister’s blue lips shaking as she refused to come out of her snow fort. I feel the dim heat under my covers as I slide back in knowing I can sleep a little longer.  I hear the laughter of my neighbor Terri as she spins that VW out around the cul-de-sac.  I taste the ice and crystallized brown sugar of our poorly made snow-ice cream crunching between my chattering teeth.  These precious images of time with friends and family wash over me.

          Those images are what I try so very hard to create for my children at each major holiday or birthday celebration.  I often do it with great stress and expense.   Snow days cost our family nothing.  Most of the time we couldn’t even get off our block.  Snow days were free of stress; we had no deadlines hanging over us.  It was as if time was suspended for one glorious day.   Maybe if I have a snow day or two with my kids this year, I will be able to simplify all those other holidays I so often blow out of proportion.   This year, I will resolve to celebrate a snow day with my family.  I may have to schedule it on my day off or during the summer so the kids don’t miss school, but for one splendid day, we will simply take time to play.  We probably won’t play in the snow, but I will turn off the alarm and let them sleep in.  We will focus on playing throughout the day, jumping on the trampoline, playing tag, sliding and swinging at the park.  I will let my children lead me back to those simpler times when I didn’t have to be a dignified adult.  I will remember that the images and feelings of a family together are prized gifts indeed.