Twenty-Two: Take a Chance.
“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.”
-Ingrid Bergman
The year's first snowfall came on Saturday. I was woken up by a phone call at nine, which annoyed me at first because I had to reach out of my warm comforter to find my cellphone. Then I realized it was you, and I couldn't answer soon enough.
“Sam!” you cried, before I could even speak. “Sam, it's snowing outside!”
“What?” I scrambled out of bed, my legs tangling in the blankets so that I landed on my face instead of my feet. But from the floor, lying upside down, I could see the whiteness drifting down outside my window.
“Do you see it?” Your voice was crackling through the speaker, and in the background I heard the sound of you banging around in your room. “Sam, do you see it?”
“I see it!” I assured you, laughing. “I'm at my window right now, I promise.”
You squealed. “You know that park? The one we went to last week? Can you meet me there?”
I hesitated. “Well, it's kind of early, I—”
“Please, Sam!” you begged.
I think we both knew that I couldn't say no. With a little bit of reluctance, I agreed, but only on the condition that we'd go for Starbucks afterward.
It's never fun to walk outside while it's snowing, but this was the kind of first snow that was light and airy. I felt the ice flakes land on my face and melt against my windbreaker, so that by the time I got to the park, my hair was damp.
There were actually a lot of people out; adults with bags of last-minute Christmas shopping, kids with toboggans and colorful mittens. The park was fully decorated, with garlands on the lampposts and colorful lights strung in the trees. Speakers, hidden throughout the park, blared Christmas carols into the air.
I found you in the midst of it all, spinning around beside a bare tree and catching snowflakes on your tongue. For a few moments, I just stood and watched you, mesmerized by the way your hair twisted in waves down your back, the blush on your cheeks, the way your pale lips were curled into a smile of private joy. I leaned against the tree until you came to a dizzy stop, hands on your knees, laughing.
“Having fun?” I asked, amused. You whirled to face me, your eyes widening and your mouth slipping into an O in a way that was so cute I almost couldn't breathe for a second.
You grinned at me, admitting, “I've never seen snow before. It's just as pretty as in the pictures.” I smirked as you turned to capture a few more snowflakes on your gloved fingertips.
“Never seen snow?” I demanded, feigning disbelief. With raised eyebrows, I leaned over and picked up a handful of the stuff, packing it together in my hands. “Well, I guess that means you've never had a snowball fight?”
You shrieked as I let the snowball fly and it exploded on your shoulder. White dust sprayed your face and hair, and you stared at me with a look of shock that quickly slipped into determination.
“Oh, all right, Windermere.” You whipped up a snowball of your own. “It's on.”
A handful of breathy ice hit me square in the face, and I heard your waterfall laugh as I swiped it out of my eyes, already reaching for another handful. I hadn't had a good snowball fight since my sister turned sixteen and decided she was “too old,” but we were both seventeen and you didn't seem any less enthusiastic than I was.
