So it snowed yesterday. It was more than snow—it was a northeaster. I stayed at my window watching the storm, attentive at the tiniest of details: the three-fourths inch diameter of the clumps, the 3 degree angle of descent, and even the number of cars that passed by. The snow covered the sidewalk with a film of white in less than fifteen minutes. But there came a time when I had to admit the truth: I was bored.
It puzzles me when I say it because I distinctively remember a younger me, a me seven years ago, celebrating the arrival of snow and singing “Let It Snow!” loudly and out of tune. I remember the joy that came with the sight that only came three or four times a year and the thought of playing in several feet of snow.

And I would not be alone. The day after a snow day, my parents would ask me and my brother to shovel the snow. First, we would do as we were told and start clearing out any snow and ice. Then I would secretly make a snowball, and aim it straight into my brother’s face. That was a war declaration. We would build snow-forts and volley innumerable snowballs at each other from behind our fortresses. When we ran out of snowballs, we would start using the snow from our forts. After the garrisons are used up, we would charge at each other with all the snow we could hold and try to bury each other in it. When our fingers could no longer tolerate the cold, we would go back inside and hope another blizzard came.

I only remember the fun that came with snow, not the boredom. It is the fifth time it snowed this year and the thermometer now reads twenty-nine degrees—the perfect temperature for molding snow. It puzzles me that the same things that would have had me charging out the door now bring about apprehension.

Apprehension? No way! It is true, though. I was not only worried but scared at the possibility that it would snow too much. Yesterday’s anxiety carried over to today as I am clearing the driveway with my brother. I looked to the root of my uneasiness, that thing constricting my heart from being happy. Is this not a Winter Wonderland? Perhaps there isn’t any sun? Maybe because I have to clear three feet of snow. Is it because of some homework I forgot to do…?

I stop shoveling, look at my brother and see him grunting at our tedious chore. I decide to do a little experiment. I am desperate to experience the snow as I did back then and there was no better chance than today, right here, right now!

I put a snowball clean into my brother’s face.

He falls to the floor, clasping his face, cursing at me. And I just could not move. I felt sorry, but at the same time, shocked to get such a different reaction. He ran back inside our house—leaving me to finish the rest of the job by myself.