Snow

Dear Dad, 

It snowed in Mattituck today. The snow began falling as we started our morning homeschool lessons. By noon, the snow must have been three or four inches deep — light and fluffy. I promised G3 that as soon as he finished today’s classes we could go outside to play. You know how much he enjoys the snow. Unlike most days, he flew through the material with only a few minor complaints. He’d be thrilled if I just skipped math a couple of times a week. I suppose that’s my fault. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t generate the same enthusiasm for numbers that comes naturally to me for the humanities. But it’s too important not to do, and so we muddle through together.

When we finally got outside, shortly after lunch, G3 helped me shovel the driveway. He worked hard and it didn’t take us long at all. But once the work was complete, he was disappointed. The snow was not good for packing which meant no snowman. It also wasn’t good for a snowball fight. He plopped himself down into the snow, “I wish we could go sledding.” 

I know. I wished I could take him sledding also. But we didn’t have a sled here and I didn’t know of any hill that I could take him to, which is why I didn’t think to pack a sled in the first place. “How about we take a walk,” I suggested.

“You know I hate to walk,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, but it’s better than sitting around feeling sad. Besides, I’ve never seen the inlet on a snowy day.”

Begrudgingly, he joined me. The inlet was pretty outlined in snow. The water was partially frozen, though not thick enough to walk on. I brought my camera — no surprise there — to take some pictures. G3 rolled his eyes as always. The walk to the inlet is short. It didn’t take long to get there and back and since I didn’t want to go inside just yet, I suggested we keep on walking to the preserve. G3 threw his arms up into the air and sighed, “Only you would be crazy enough to want to hike in the snow.” But again he came with with me. We followed the tracks of a snow mobile for awhile until we came across some blazes and decided to follow them instead. It wasn’t long before G3 broke from the trail. “Follow me,” he commanded. I might have been worried about getting lost, but our tracks in the snow clearly marked our way.

And it was there, wandering off trail down a hill, that G3 found an old discarded blue sled half buried in the snow. With a shout of surprise, he pulled it free, “Yes!” He looked at me, expecting, I suppose, me to tell him to leave the sled alone. Instead, I pointed to the hill we just walked down, “Go ahead.”

“Really!” He seemed more surprised that I was encouraging him than that he found the sled. 

He raced up the hill, sat down on the sled, and came zooming down, powdery snow spraying him in the face. When he came to a stop, he looked up into the heavens, waved, and said, “Thank you Grandpa for the sled.” And then he took off, running up the hill again. 

Later, as we were walking home he told me, “Grandpa always gives me what I want. He knew I really wanted to go sledding. So he led me to the hill where he had a sled waiting.”

He knew you well. You really did make him happier than anyone else. But was it you who found a way to get him that old sled? Or was it a coincidence? G3 would give you credit either way.

I miss you.