At this morning, after feeding Violet and putting her to bed, I looked out the window to see the snow’s progress. I think all teachers pay extra attention to weather forecasts from November through March, and last night’s called for snow. The possibility of a snow day hung in the air like sex on the third date. Once upon a time, when I was studying to be a teacher, I wrote in some required “reflection” assignment how I wanted to become a teacher who would be disappointed by a snow day, and I hoped my future students would feel the same. Maybe it was a naive thought – okay, it definitely was. Is it even possible? I want to believe it is, and I want to believe I’m capable of it. But a snow day is such a beautiful thing, on so many levels, and now, with the difficulty of pulling myself away from my two beautiful, slumbering girls every morning – I don’t know if I’ll ever get there. And six or seven years from now, when I’m woken up by the sweet sound of a 5 AM “school is closed today” call, and I know a day with my little girl awaits – a day of snowshoeing, animal tracking, snow shelter building, and hot cocoa, I can’t picture myself thinking, “Damn!” Maybe it’ll happen after she goes off to college.
62 days old