The Human Comedy: Snow Day

Short Satire, Landscape Photography
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Short Satire

The boy grabbed his sled. The blizzard was coming.

He writhed into his Long Johns. He wriggled into his snowpants. He was so excited, he put his ski goggles on upside down. On came his boots, and open flew the door.

Snow was falling, light but steady. The heavy stuff would be there by the time he reached the hill. He turned out of his driveway, up the hill to the neighborhood exit. The main road was a ruler’ edge, straight and measured. His school bus route. He trudged and trudged, the sled a necessary burden on his trek to snowvation. A mile passed under his 11-year-old legs, and he arrived at the church and looked at the sky.

Flurries, that was it. But the blizzard was coming – it had to be coming. The weathermen had been blathering about it all week. The mayor had made announcements. The subways had closed. By the time he ascended the hill, he would be knee-deep in snow. He was sure of it.

He made his way around the church and began his climb. There was barely frost on the ground. In five minutes he reached the top. It was un-sleddable. So he sat. And he waited.

An hour passed. The blizzard never came.

The boy descended the hill, defeated. He didn’t understand it. He had seen all the weather predictions, all the radar analyses, all the severe weather warnings … and they had amounted to a quarter-inch of slush. He looked at his sled – his burden – and he started to cry. It was a long way home.

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Photograph by Olia Gozha

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