Let Me Tell You a Story

February 2004

Snowdrops

I looked out the window as I listened to the phone ring. Predictably, my mother had been waiting for the call, and I didn't have to wait long before she answered. Having established that my son had survived his first plane journey without incident, her next question was expected.  Indeed yes, there had been plenty to eat and we’d finished dinner about an hour ago. We were all well-fed, happy and tired, ready for bed. Quickly my mother filled me in on the various bits of news with other family members, and then asked how the weather was.

Another glance out the window and nothing had changed. Despite my belief that it rarely rained in Paris, there was undoubtedly a fine mist falling steadily outside. My heart sank. In the previous days I had visions of introducing my son to the delights of Disneyland Paris. Pictures of us wrapped up warm against the cold frosty air, as we walked merrily along, began to fade quickly. At this moment it seemed that we must simply resign ourselves to weather so similar to that which we had left at home.  Still tomorrow was another day, and one never knew what might happen.

Even though over the next few days the weather sis indeed improve, one got the impression that the rain was never too far away. And despite my deepest wish, the air remained somewhat cold although never quite that crispy cold I’d anticipated.

Daily conversations with other visitors kept us informed of the weather situation back home. The day before we were due to leave, I began chatting to a lady from England as we waited for the bus. Quietly she told me that there was very bad weather forecast in England for the following week. Indications were that the temperature would fall to almost minus 4 degrees, and inevitably there would be a downfall of snow. Speaking with my mother later that evening, it appeared the same weather was predicted for Ireland. Great – we’d be home in plenty of time for my son to experience snow for the first time.

It’s amazing how excited people become about the prospect of a snowfall. In spite of myself, I couldn’t wait to get of the plane, as it landed. We alighted from the plane and decided it was cold enough for snow.

As I waited for my husband to get the car, I allowed myself the luxury of dreaming.  Like the hottest days of summer, the best snowfalls were those I experienced as a child. Nothing since has ever come close to those memories. – Listening to the radio, dressed and ready for school, anticipation palpable as the radio announcer added our school to the list closed for that day, and tantalisingly the possibility of the following day also.

Closing my eyes I visibly recalled one such day :‘ Simultaneously the doors of the houses opened and children of every age seemed to empty into the streets. Soon the air was filled with the sound of laughter, and unbridled fun. Children chased each other with snowballs; others innovatively made their own sleighs, while there was many a snowman in the various stages of construction. Usually it’s a struggle for an older sibling to take care of a younger one, but today, nobody seemed to mind.  All mingled together quite happily. Such was our situation – It was our 3-year-old brother’s first experience of snow and being ‘very mature’ six and eight year old sisters, we had quite outdone ourselves in the construction of our snowman. Neither of us could recall having ever made quite a splendid specimen before.  As we admired our handiwork, my mother approached and advised us to come inside for something warm. I will never forget the look on my brother’s face, so serious and concerned as he asked my mother to bring the snowman into the house and put him by the fire, for fear he would get cold if we left him outside in the snow’.

I was awakened from my day dreaming by the beep of a car horn. Apparently my husband had been trying to attract my attention for the past 15 minutes. He was beginning to seriously question my levels of sight and hearing, and then my sanity as he said I obviously wasn’t in reality at all. Patience is one of my husband’s strongest traits and I realised I must have stretched him close to his limits as he remained somewhat annoyed for the rest of the evening. Without doubt the atmosphere in the car remained clod as we travelled the long miles back to Cork. I toyed with the idea of sharing my memories with him, but one look at the concentration in his face, meant no.

We arrived home. Tired and hungry we quickly ate convenience food, and got our son ready for bed. Still very cold outside, I was glad we’d had the foresight to time the heating to come on at various hours while we were away. The house was very cosy and snug. Deciding that a good night’s sleep would do us all the world of good we made our way upstairs. As we did so my husband returned downstairs to check the lock on the back patio door. When he arrived upstairs a few moments later, he led us to the bedroom window, determined to show us something in the back garden. The sensor light cast a golden glow across the grass. And falling silently, but persistently were flakes of soft white snow.

© Pauline Power 11/2/04