We had a good snow the other day, postponing errands and closing schools. My husband got to rev up the snowblower while I cleared the cars, shoveled the stoop and released the arborvitae tree boughs from the weight of the snow. It was fun to see my grand nephews slide down hills and build a snowman.
During the holidays, a snow dusting fell, giving my southern raised grandchildren a chance to throw snowballs at each other and make muddy snow angels in the raised garden beds. Too bad they missed this blizzard.
A snow day was the ultimate winter gift for kids. Back in my day, the neighborhood kids spent the whole day playing in the snow and cold. There were snowball fights between boys, girls, the kids around the corner or on the other side of the street. Snow forts served as protective barriers and an igloo room for hot chocolate and cookie respite.
We’d gather sleds and garbage can lids, then search for the perfect slope. Long Island had flat terrain, especially in the suburban developments, so the clover leaf hills off the parkways were the best options. The problem was that you needed a parent or someone’s older brother willing to drive a gang of kids in the station wagon to the right spot. If my dad was home and the road was not too clear of ice and snow, he would attach a water ski rope to his car and tow us around the corner on the toboggan. We would swerve in and out of the tire grooves, and dodge the onslaught of snowballs from the kids waiting their turn.
When my girls were little, a friend’s mom let us sled in her yard. She had a steep hill in the back. Once the snow packed hard and slick, the ride to the bottom was fast and furious. The girls learned to steer their plastic saucers quickly to avoid crashing into the above-ground pool.
At the end of a snow day—which was always too short, snowmen stood as sentry in the front yards, reflecting the glow of sunset. We kids would strip out of soaked boots, pants, and snow caked mittens and hats in the garage. Once dressed in dry clothes, our cheeks still flushed cherry red, we’d retell our adventures over soup, grilled cheese sandwiches and hot chocolate.
Now It’s Your Turn
Grand Prompts To Ask Your Grands is a journaling challenge. The prompts serve as conversation starters that forge connections between generations. Oral storytelling weaves life’s episodes. It is a ritual founded in the ancient beginnings of humans. We always told stories. The nuances, the background settings, the cadence to the dialog give spirit to a narrative. Facts are important to define time and place, but the heart of the story comes to light when shared, questioned, laughed, and cried through. Those are the stories that live, providing the teller a slice of immortality and giving listeners an understanding of the past and a means to navigate the paths ahead.
Share your conversations and inner reminisces in the comment box, or ping back #grandpromptstoaskyourgrands .
Thank yous go out to Natalie the Explorer who keeps the Weekend Coffee Share percolating each week.
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