Snow days keep me sane. I believe that they are a cure for stress and an answer to my problems. They are a chance to breathe after being suffocated in schedules. As a senior in high school, it may be quite understandable to anxiously anticipate a snow day as if it were the pinnacle holiday of my strictly practiced religion. But this is nothing new.
As a child, I would listen to the early ring of the phone-tree as if it were the very bells of Santa’s sleigh. The reaction to such an occasion would probably be one not far from flailing down the stairs screaming, “It’s here! It’s here!” if I didn’t have all morning to sleep in. If it were possible to know exactly when a snow day was coming, I would probably count down the days. Not knowing, however, is ultimately the beauty of it.
The convenient surprise of the snow day is so sporadic that I’m left with the whole day to do as I please: a refreshing holiday just to chill. With no time to listen to the apparent reflex of cramming the to-do list the day before, a snow day is one of the only situations void of pre-planned preoccupations (right beside the apocalypse and world invasion of Yetis). In short, it’s a rare excuse to lie back (make a snow angel or two) and enjoy the moment.
As tasks build up, I may just let the snow do the same on the driveway. Now stuck inside with the power cut, I’ll sit beside the fire with that scarf I’ve never finished or that book I’ve been wanting to get to. With my day delayed, I have finally received the much-needed time to reflect and relax.
I can now sneak out of that monotonous life to do everything from my dream day, to nothing at all. And it is no surprise why most of us choose the latter. We all need a break every once in a while, just long enough to collect our thoughts. To put things on pause, to put things into perspective. To play in the snow before school the next day. This I believe.
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