I’m never as aware that my lonely only is a lonely only as when there is a day like a snow day.
Such a day is filled with wonder and anticipation. When getting on the bus is torture because you’re all suited up and that sparkly wonderfulness is hands off. When getting off the bus means diving headfirst into the first snow bank you see and deciding just how to maximize the hours before dinner.
It’s a type of day when mom and dad just can’t fulfill the zest that such a day requires. Snowballs sail a little slower than normal. Snowmen are a little too spherical and a tad too straight. Stamina is not what it should be.
The lonely only spirits of the world are amazing at bringing their own tempered zest along for the ride though.
It’s that zest that says, “I’m gonna build an ice castle for Elsa with the icicles.”
The ice castle is of course amazing. An imagination gets well developed when none of the plastic playmates can talk back.
I smile at the concentration that furrows her brow and the sing song voice that alternates with her own steady rhythm.
She’s having a blast. She really is.
I’m left wishing for her to experience that over zealous take it all in feeling and conspiratorial planning that a snow day requires when there’s a pack of minds looking to go all in.
It’s raucous snowball wars from a perfectly crafted hiding spot behind haphazard snow forts.
It’s building a giant igloo behind the garage and trying to sneak supplies so you can move in full time.
It’s gathering snow from three yards to build your own hill for sledding.
It’s staying out all day and coming in all wet and soggy to talk endlessly about how spectacularly awesome that snowball attack really was.
I just want her to get swept up in some full throttle no holds barred zest. A zest she so rarely gets to be a part of without any co-conspirators at the ready.
Elsa will be there when she gets back.