Melting Heart
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Melting Heart

What the snow meant to my mom, as a little girl.

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Melting Heart
Mary Reyes

One morning I woke up early and peered out the large window next to my bed, and the snow was still blinding from the atrocious blizzard. I was stuck in our enormous, beautiful, brown house for 15 days without school because of the Blizzard of ‘78. The plows couldn’t reach 21 Sunnyside Street in Jamaica Plain of Boston, Massachusetts, and there was no other way out. The snow banks towered so high they seemed as if they were as tall as Mount Everest. I loved the amusement that came from the snow when I was younger, so for an eleven-year-old, this was the ideal situation. I stared at the glorious flakes as they fell, and heard laughter coming from my neighbors, so I shook my twin sister, Jo-Ann awake

We lunged downstairs. I peered through the window that looked into the neighbor’s yard, and Michael, Mary-Helen, and Eileen were already playing outside. My sister and I rushed to pull our black snow clothes on, with our waterproof boy boots that had warming inserts. I despised those boots, they were awkward to put on, and they were a hideous brown. However, back then money was tight, and my parent’s bought all that they could at Ashmont Discount since their goods were affordable and durable. We grabbed our gloves, our hats, and of course our scarves (because if I left the house without a scarf my mom would’ve killed me). After the two of us were bundled up, we pushed through the door to retrieve our sled.

The sled, yet another purchase from Ashmont Discount, was wooden with red iron runners on the side to keep you from flying off, with two pedals near the bottom, in order to keep me from crashing into a tree or any other roadblock. Tumbling over to the Dugan’s, I urged them to come sledding with us, and like always they said yes. We headed to our back yard, and trudging through the snow was like walking through molasses, but it was worth it. When we arrived at the tall metal fence in the very back of the yard there were only a few more feet until we reached the top of the massive hill. I set down my beautiful toboggan, and sat down, I asked Jo-Ann for a push, and not even one second later was I flying down the hill. After about an hour, my sister retreated back inside, but I didn’t; I stayed out throwing snowballs, and sliding down the hill for hours on end. I only ever went back home I became so frozen and drenched that I couldn’t bare the outside anymore.

Trudging back to our mountainous home, I waddled up the big brown porch to the beautiful front door with the stained glass window. As I opened the large door, my mom and dad were in the kitchen, and as soon as they heard me my dad rushed me back out onto the porch. I was covered in tiny snow pellets from my hat to my socks, and I was absolutely soaking wet. While I waited frozen on my front porch while my dad ran to grab the black, odd looking car brush.When he came back he scraped me off, just like I was the ugly station wagon, I could lightly feel the bristles pricking at me through my snow clothes, and it tickled a bit. After being cleaned off like the family station wagon, he picked me up and plopped me back in the house, in front of the large, metal radiator in the front hall.

While, my father helped me peel off my wet sticky snow clothes, I heard my mom humming in the kitchen. I smelled the hot cocoa and delicious chicken soup she had on the stove. I looked up at my dad who towered over me, with the thought of yummy and warm delicious soup in my stomach, and my dad glanced down at me, since he was six foot two and I was a tiny girl. “What are you smiling about?”

Smiling he told me, “I love when you come in the house like this. Frozen, soaked, with a bright red nose, and the smell of snow on you. It makes me happy that you and your sisters are having the best childhood we can give you.”

“Why’s that daddy?” I asked curiously.

“Well, when I was a little boy my parents never wanted me grimy or wet, and if I came in that way they’d beat me. They didn’t really want anything to do with me, they wanted raising me to be easy. That’s why when you and your sisters sit around the house I always tell you to get outside because it’s so much better out there, especially since there’s nothing to do inside.”

As my mom came over with a warm cup of cocoa and a soft towel, I felt heartbroken for my dad, he never experienced an amazing childhood like I had. My two lovely parents rubbed me down with that towel, and tossed my snow clothes on the crackling radiator. We sat at the kitchen table and ate the warm soup, and we just sat there in silence for a little while.

A few hours later I sort of forgot the conversation. Well, put it in the back of mind, and I returned to the blistering cold. My Ashmont Discount snow clothes still toasty, warm from the radiator keeping me safe from the frozen, snowy Earth just for a little while longer.

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