Pic: Me, next to the giant snowman. You can see the half finished fort in the background
A snowy Thanksgiving
Big, floaty flakes are falling. The kind that stick to your eyelashes and your cheeks and the tip of your nose. The kind of flakes that are magic because they are alive.
We are sitting at the Thanksgiving table at my grandma and grandpa’s house watching the snow fall. The table has the extra eaves in place so we can all fit around it. On top of the table is grandma’s fancy tablecloth and on top of that there are endless, heaping mounds of food. Turkey and all the fixings; mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes with marsh mellows on top, homemade rolls, stuffing, trays with pickles and celery and olives, and pumpkin pie. My grandma is buzzing around like a little bee, moving lithely from the kitchen to the dining table, making sure everyone has what they need.
My gramps carves the turkey and we all dish up. As we eat, we talk and laugh. The silverware clinking on the plates makes a song in my head. A noisy symphony that plays in contrast to the quiet snow falling outside the window. The house is warm and fragrant with the smell of sage from the stuffing.
Even though my tummy is stuffed, I eat a huge slice of pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top. When I am done, I lie on my back in the living room and lift my shirt and look at my swollen belly. I look like the picture I saw in my science book at school of a snake that just swallowed its prey. I smile to myself and slap my tummy gently, like Santa Claus.
The dishes are done now and my grandpa is at the kitchen table yelling. The adults are playing cards, a regular event in my family. No matter what game of cards my grandpa plays, he always yells. Not mean, scary yelling, but funny, witty, oh-woe-is-me yelling. Everyone knows that my gramps yells when he plays cards! Sometimes, he gets so dramatic you would think the world was coming to an end. But, there is always a twinkle in his eye and he says things that make everyone laugh. He makes up singsong little rhymes when he plays, too. My favorite is “Fifteen two and his balls are blue!” (A saying/song he uses specifically for cribbage). My gramps always puts a loud, jutting emphasis on the “Fifteen.” It’s fun just to listen when my gramps is playing cards!
The snow is falling in much thicker, heavier chunks now. Even though we are having fun at grandma and grandpa’s house, we need to leave before the weather gets too bad. We load up into the car and head for home. On the way, me and my brothers discuss our plans to build a snow fort. I can’t wait to get outside! Even though I know he’s being careful, I wish my dad would hurry and drive faster!
We pull into the driveway and me and my brothers tear into the house, race into our snow pants, boots, hats and mittens, and fly out the door into the snow. It’s still coming down in big, puffy gobs. We throw snowballs and make snow angels and run around the yard. Then we get to work and roll the balls for our fort. The snow is perfectly sticky and it is effortless to make the balls. I scoop a pile of snow onto my mitten and lick it with my tongue. I let the snow turn to water in my mouth. I can feel the cold glide down my throat and into my tummy. It feels good! I look up at the sky, open my mouth, and let the flakes fall right on my tongue.
About halfway through our fort making, my dad comes outside to play with us. I beg him to make a snow angel and he falls back onto the ground and indulges me. When he’s done, I climb inside his angel and make my own. I carefully step out when I finish so I can see what my wings look like inside of his. I am small.
After the snow angel, my dad starts to roll a snowball and we turn our attention away from the fort and onto snowman making. My dad rolls and rolls until the snowball is massive! The ball gets so huge, we all have to help roll it. We push and heave and laugh and my dad is so much fun. We are going to make a GIANT snowman! We finish rolling the base of the snowman and repeat the process and make another huge snowball for the middle. The ball is so heavy we can’t lift it. My dad goes to the garage to get a big, wide board that we will use to roll the snowball onto the base. My little brother is learning about levers and pulleys and other mechanical devices in school. We roll the ball up the board and my dad talks about how the board is an “inclined plane,” something else my brother is learning about. Even though my dad didn’t go to college, he is really smart. He knows a lot of things and it seems like he can do anything.
By the time we finish the snowball for the head and roll it up the board, it is dark outside. No one cares though and we keep working. Except, this isn’t work, it’s the most fun, best day ever! My mom flips on the big security light in the yard and comes out to see our awesome creation. She smiles and hugs us and tells us what a great job we did. She has some licorice to use for the mouth and nose and some barbeque briquettes for the eyes and the chest. She also has an old scarf to polish off his look. Me and my brothers find a security cone and decide it will make the perfect hat. We fill it with snow so it will stay on his head. My dad gets the ladder and climbs up to put it on. I secretly hope the hat is magical and will make the snowman come alive, just like Frosty. I’m so thrilled about the whole day, I’m not even sad when that doesn’t happen. When we are finally done, the snowman is about 10 feet tall! He makes my dad look short! We are all so excited we dance around the yard and kick and roll and spin like baby goats. Kids. We are kids. And we are so happy!
Everyone is so proud and my mom runs in the house to get the camera. We take turns standing in front of the giant snowman while she takes our picture. She takes a family photo, too, with all of us kids and my dad. I smile as big as the snowman! After that, my mom and dad go in the house because it’s getting late and cold outside. But me and my brothers are still too excited to go in. We continue rolling snowballs until we’ve built another, smaller snowman. After that, we work on our fort again. We decide that it’s going to be the greatest fort ever built and we will even be able to sleep in it!
We are about three-quarters finished with our fort when my mom yells out the door that we have to come in the house. We slog in and sluff off our cold, wet clothes. My mom hands us each a turkey sandwich from the leftovers my grandma sent us. We sit at the table and eat our food and sip hot cocoa. I look at the marsh mellows floating on top and I smile because they look like the snowman. I push them around in the milky liquid with my spoon and listen to my brothers laugh and talk about how they are going to get up early and finish that fort. I spoon a cocoa covered marsh mellow into my mouth and tell them I am going to help, too.
I am 8 years old and I am thankful. It was a good, good day.