The Truth Board

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The Truth About the Fact: An International Journal of Literary Nonfiction

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Location: Los Angeles, California, United States

The Truth About the Fact: A Journal of Literary Nonfiction is an international journal committed to the idea that excellence in the art of letters can play a vital role in transforming the planet we share.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Memories of the Snow Days on the East Coast

“Our Doppler Radar has shown that a large storm is coming towards the metropolitan area of Washington, D.C. Stay tuned to ABC 7 at 11 for updated conditions regarding the possible blizzard that may hit.” That is the best news any broadcaster could have said. My older brother and I stare anxiously at the bottom of the TV screen hoping that Montgomery County schools will be one of the many counties that will close for snow. The names of counties in Maryland and Virginia scroll by and all we want to see was Montgomery County. As we wait, I always seem to say, “I swear, if we have school tomorrow…I’ll cry!” Most of the time, the school boards will make the decision whether to have school or not, the night before the snow storm had actually arrived. They never wanted to take chances—you never heard of kids complaining about early closures. Finally, my brother, Matt, and I see that Montgomery County closed schools for the next day and we experience a rush of excitement. We jump up off the couch, with glowing smiles and shout that we did not have school the next day. We could see the light pink glow in the sky when we opened up the back door to stand outside and see if it had started snowing. Now that we did not have school the next day, all we waited for was that winter wonderland that will hopefully start later that night.
The morning after the snow cancellation news, I wake up thankful to have the best view anyone could ask for. I lie in bed and see out my upper window and see the pine trees covered in a blanket of white snow. From that point on, I knew the day was full of excitement. I rush downstairs to find that my brother had beaten me down there. I automatically start putting on my snow gear as my mom yells for me to come eat breakfast. “But Matt is already heading out the door,” I scream. I always try to keep up to the fast pace of my older brother. I quickly gobble down my Just Right cereal and head out the door. Matt and I never seemed to complain about shoveling our massive, hilly, driveway. The heavy scoops of snow I toss onto the grass, always leaves me in a cold sweat and a little bit of pain. The snow continues to fall onto my face and I stand there in awe of the beautiful winter wonderland that was forming right before my eyes.
Once we complete shoveling the driveway, it is time for some fun. Matt and I grab the plastic pink and green sleds from the garage. These sleds have served us well throughout the many snowstorms we encountered over the years. He and I run to the back of our house and Matt drags me in the pink sled in order to make the first round of tracks. At the end of our path there was a concrete wall we fly off at a high rate of speed and land in a pile of snow. Matt and I sled down the side of our house for hours. Although we were no longer children, he and I act like we were 4 and 8 years old again. We listen to the children next door scream with excitement as they hit each other with snowballs and all we can do was recall those memorable days.
As the afternoon progressed, my mom calls us in for our favorite part of snow days—the warm chocolate chip cookies that await us on the cookie sheets—the tradition Matt and I look forward to the most. The sense of relaxation and joy bring smiles to our faces.
As the night rolls in, the sky is filled with a pink hue and glowing orange. We keep wondering if we will have a repeat tomorrow. After a few hours, we hear the worst sound any teenager could imagine…the snow plow. The roaring trucks scrape through the neighborhood pavement; first plowing the snow out of the street and then coming around to spread the sand and salt on the road. Matt and I run to the window and see the beaming lights of these massive trucks destroying our hopes of school closures tomorrow. A feeling of destruction comes over me.
Living in Los Angeles, without any snow days, reminds me constantly of those wickedly cold February days where snow would blanket the city. The memories of the snow days are irreplaceable and I long for a few more snow days in my life.
-Monica Augustyn


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