A Neighborhood Transformed

Originally published on DC Metro Moms, 12/19/09:

 The snowstorm is fully upon us now, and I've even heard the "storm of the century" phrase being thrown around.  (Which seems somewhat anti-climactic when you think that we're less than a decade into this century, right?)  Our city, in the heart of Prince George's County, is awash in that fluffy white stuff that I had begun to think would not play a part in any of my children's memories.  Having grown up in New England, I can vividly recall the feeling of the snow in my face as my sled barreled down a neighborhood hill.  I had resigned myself to the fact that since I had chosen to raise my children technically south of the Mason-Dixon line, they probably wouldn't be reminscing someday about snowball fights, sled crashes and gigantic snowmen.  But this weekend just may be one that holds a special place in their childhood memories, as well as the history books, perhaps.

As I hauled out the triple, or maybe even quadruple-layered kids outside this morning, I was transfixed for a moment on how foreign the landscape outside my door appeared.  Living on the corner of a major intersection ensures that very few quiet moments can take place in our yard.  Let's just say that even my two-year-old is beginning to be blase about the wail of sirens streaking past, since it's so commonplace.  I never cease to be amazed at the number of cars that can be spied speeding down the road at 3:00 am.  But not on this snow-globe morning.  For as far as we could see from our front walk, our neighborhood was akin to the slumbering house on the night before Christmas- absolutely no one was stirring.

To see an intersection void of any cars next to townhome lawns all painted with untouched snow was a sight to behold.  The silence struck me, but only for a moment of course, because soon my three kids were marking up that blank palette of white snow with boot prints and slicing through the quiet with their sharp shrieks of pure delight.  Suddenly my own experiences of years ago were being relived by the next generation, even down to the attempted use of the plastic snow brick maker, an activity that I never found terribly successful, myself.  The wonder of hours of heavy snowfall had magically transformed our Maryland life into the images of my New England childhood.

As I began to labor at the adult snow day responsibility of shoveling, I felt a sort of double-existence- the child in me is apparently very much still alive, begging to know when we're going to go sledding, pretty-please!  At the same time, though, the realization of exactly how much laundry would be piled up by the end of the day also filled my grown-up thoughts.  Perhaps snow has the ability to transform our fully grown-up lives right alongside our usually busy streets and leaf-strewn lawns, giving us the rare opportunity to express the uninhibited joy of childhood once again.  I hope I'll be the one screaming the loudest as we push off from the top of the hill this afternoon.

his is an original DC Metro Moms post.

Dawn blogs nonsense about her family at my thoughts exactly, but tries to sound intelligent when she reviews books at 5 Minutes for Books.