A CHILD’S FEBRUARY JOYS

This February day started out stormy and though it’s beautiful, I am very content to watch it from the inside where the warmth of the house engulfs me, and gets me thinking of how I used to find it so exhilarating to get all bundled up with sweaters, scarves, mittens and boots, and off I’d go to brave sliding down double-bump hill that was situated so conveniently right at the back of the empty lot adjacent to our property. The hill was never without someone speeding wildly to its bottom, their screams not of fright, but pure joy, and faces glowed from the kiss of the icy wind on our cheeks, and our noses running in the cold, but we didn’t know it, and I’m sure we wouldn’t have cared anyway. The trek back up the hill was nothing to us kids as we knew there would once again be the thrill of zooming down the hill another glorious time. The first bump came so quickly as we literally flew over it like a ski jumper and when we hit the earth again, it was with a terrific jolt that rattled our bones and then quickly on its heels was bump number two mimicking the first to perfection. Oh the joy of sleighing, and though it was extremely cold, we were warm from the exertion of climbing back up the hill. By this time we had, had enough, and knew by the grumbling of our stomachs that mom would have supper on the table. We left the hill and returned to our warm homes with our outer clothing coated with little ice balls, and our mittens hard as rocks. Mom would help us to get all our coats and boots off and arrange them near the wood stove to dry. After supper with our tummies all full and the warmth of the house had permeated deep into our bones, the same cozy feeling of being secure and loved would rise up to the surface and at that time I knew God was nearby and whispering to our hearts of His love and that He was watching over us all. Sleep would come easy because of the exertion of our play and before long, the house was quiet as mom and dad had some free time to themselves for the first time that day. The next day as we gazed out frosted window panes to see what the weather was like we could see it was an ideal day to go skating on the river. The boys on the street and their fathers were shovelling a large rink and there was always the spot under the first pier of the bridge, where the wind would barrel through and whip the ice clean like a bottle. In the crevices where the pressure of the ice had made huge cracks we could see that it was over a foot thick and very safe. I was never a powerful skater, and had to rest a lot, but there were special times when for one reason or another, I would get my second wind and I would go and go without tiring and these times are indelibly written in my memory. How is it possible for one child to have such a blessed life? I remember making snow forts and having snowball fights from our protected position and making angels in the snow and slurping icicles when we got thirsty. Our homes were trimmed in icicles weeks at a time and dad used to pile snow high up on the foundation to make the house warmer. On washday, the house smelled of frozen long johns that stood by themselves, and other articles of laundry brought in after a good freezing on the line outside. In the evening these articles would be hung throughout the house making it unnecessary to have a humidifier and they dried on lines that magically disappeared during the day. We as children drank our fill of winter’s cup of joy and I can’t gaze upon such days as these without remembering the blessings of my youth, and realize that though we were not rich in material things we were millionaires in the love and caring of faithful parents who gave to us their all.

Margaret Rose Larrivee
Feb. 03, 2007