There are certain experiences that can cause us to feel almost exactly the way we did as children. Pulling a wrapped present out from under the Christmas tree. Walking barefoot in the grass on a hot, summer's day. Or sipping from a big mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows floating across the top.
One of those experiences, some would argue one of the best, happened today. I work for an agency that runs programs within public elementary schools. When the New York City public schools close because of a snowstorm (something that almost never happens) our office is also closed. And today, we got one. A snow day.
Remember snow days when you were a kid? You'd go to bed at night after hearing the weatherman forecasting an incoming snowstorm. And in the morning, you'd get out of bed, run to the window and pull back the curtains, revealing a blanket of new snow covering everything. And then you'd rush to the radio, turn it on and keep your fingers crossed that there would be an announcement that school was closed for the day. And when that announcement came, life couldn't have been better.
A snow day, even as an adult, pretty much goes the same way. This morning when I heard the announcement that New York's schools were closed, I leapt out of my bed faster than a personal injury attorney can chase down a speeding ambulance. At the simple realization that I had just been given a snow day, I was wide awake, full of energy and raring to go. And "raring to go" is one terribly sweet feeling when you're staying home.
It usually doesn't go like this at all. Most mornings, my alarm goes off blaring the newsradio station 1010WINS. And when it comes on, trying to introduce the day's top stories into my day, I routinely (OK, always) hit the snooze button every 7 minutes until a full additional hour has passed. Then I begrudgingly pull myself out from under the covers and growl at the cat to "get off me." Grumpy and grumbling, I make my way downstairs and head straight to the best morning friend I have ever known, the coffeepot. Anyone who has ever seen me in the morning knows it's best to not say a word until caffeine has begun to seep into my system.
But today it all felt just like it did as a kid. It was as if someone declared it, not a snow day, but my own personal holiday. I could do whatever I wanted and the only thing that was mandatory was that I enjoy it. Snow days are like mini-vacations without the stress of planning or travelling or spending any time with your Aunt Irene who wants to tell you all about the minor medical problems she's been experiencing for the past forty years. Snow days are like that unexpected gift that arrives in the mail and that pet who jumps up to excitedly greet us when we come home after a long day.
There is one difference in snow days then versus now. As a kid, once that announcement was made, all I wanted to do was hurry and get all bundled up in my boots, coat and gloves so I could go outside and play. As an adult, I prefer to simply view the snow from inside where everything's warm and dry. But either way, the feeling of having a snow day is the same now as it was forty years ago. Bliss. And tonight, when I head off to bed, I expect I'll do what I always did at the end of every snow day. Hope that, by some chance, we get another one tomorrow.
