Snow day dreams

by Kim Walters

This morning at breakfast,
still heavy and slow, only minutes from sleep,
you wished that today were a snow day
No, it’s not, I said and pushed you on to eat your breakfast,
get on with your day,
get ready, get dressed, get going.

Pulling out of the driveway,
warmly encased in our car,
breathing from the rushed effort of morning,
bags packed, shoes ties, teeth brushed, homework completed
positioned and ready for our day separate days.

In contrast, the new snow sat still,
fixed to the branches of the cherry tree.
The bushes by the front door bent under its weight.
Our footprints marked that we had, in fact,
at least been there once.

At the bus stop, you asked,
“Will the snow still be here when we get home?”
Yes, I said with authority, though honestly I am not certain.
It might warm up and melt away before we ever get to spend time together in it,
while we are at work, at school, moving through our separate days.

I wish I could have said yes, "I call a snow day."
Stop the world, stop the motion, stop our goings.
Stop and let’s stomp in the snow.