This was not one of my bests. After a quick re-read I was thoroughly disappointed.  It’s either because I’m a little bit tipsy or I’m just a terrible writer.  Whatever the case may be, I promised I would do a prompt and here it is.  With massive errors and all. I could edit it and have it not suck but… Meh.

A Year of Writing Prompts by Brian A. Klems and Zachary Petit

January 10

Snow Day

“Write about a day during your elementary school years when school was cancelled due to snow. Remember waking up to the “good” news? How did you fill your newfound free time?”

My initial reaction to this prompt was that of a typical Southern Californian. We don’t experience snow days. Although it is not true. While my town is not really in an area with likely snowfall, it could happen, theoretically. That is, if the stars aligned and rain was in the forecast. While it can get below freezing in the San Joaquin Valley, unless it rains the chances of it snowing are really slim. Especially since we typically have an awful lot of sunny days. Which is why our entire state has been in a drought for some time.

The one and only snow day I ever got I remember very well. My mom woke me up at six in the morning. She whispered to me that she had something very important to show me. I was annoyed and told her I wanted to sleep. She assured me in the softest voice, that I would not be disappointed.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I walked across the hall to my mother’s bathroom where she had the window open. I looked through the undistorted view at the most beautiful scene I have ever witnessed.

In our backyard is a kidney shaped pool, with a large fiberglass rock waterfall at it’s head. There is even a matching fiberglass planter just to the left. In the summer it’s very beige and our backyard is typically very brown, except for the lush greenery in one corner. This particular morning every surface was covered in soft white powder. The flakes were still drifting down in small flakes.

My heart skipped a beat. “Wow” was all I could say.

In my younger years I went to a private Christian school. During the first year we moved from true southern California to the San Joaquin Valley, I would pray every day in class for snow. I drove my other classmates nuts. I distinctly remember this one morning there was a heavy layer of frost on the grass and this one classmate of mine said, “There’s your snow. Now will you stop praying?” This particular girl regularly hated me. So I just smiled and said no. (Believe me, she was a cunt of the highest order. She was one of the kind who hated me purely because I was fat.)

From my parent’s bathroom I rushed to the front door and looked out at my usually drab world covered in a glistening blanket.

The thing that sticks with me, just as vivid as the moment I stepped out the front door that day, was how silent it was. The silence was so other worldly. It was beautiful, but like the modern world tends to be, it was a true silent. Cutting through the serene silence was the snapping, cracking, of the trees. They were unfamiliar with the weight of the snow on their limbs and were growing weak as they attempted to keep them raised.

I rushed back inside and grabbed our old film camera and starting snapping photos. What came out was so very disappointing. The photos were very dark and did not, in the slightest, capture how it had looked when I took them. To make it worse, the flakes passed right in front of the lens and looked freakish in the photos. Almost like misshapen specters sailing through the air. Me being obsessed with the paranormal, fantasized that to be the case.

By some miracle, the school cancelled instruction for the day. My school typically didn’t even do fog delays like the other schools in the valley. So, it was so exciting to have a whole day to play in the snow.

The cold powder lasted until about midday and it began to melt. Our location is not conducive for the life of snow. Ultimately the only thing I did that day was build snowman cheerleaders in the formation of a two tier, pyramid. (Yeah. I wasn’t gay.)

It has been almost 20 years since that happened and the people in my town still talk about the snow day.