A January Tale

  As an adult, I've come to dread the month of January. The gleeful Christmas buzz is over, and everything seems to fall flat fast. Although the days begin to grow longer, it is the heart of the winter, and nothing but cold, snowy, dreary days lie ahead, until a vague glimpse of Spring, timidly reveals itself  sometime in early March.  Remembering my childhood however, I have fond memories of the month of January.

   It was around the second week of January and the first snowfall of the season. I was in sixth grade, and like all the other sixth graders, I waited impatiently for the 3:00 bell to ring and anticipated the first snowball fight of the year. Once we were let out of class, we rushed down the staircase cutting in front of one another, and we all yelled excitedly as we raced toward the exit like animals out of a cage.

  The snow was still slightly falling and there was just enough snow on the ground. Many of the sixth graders ran straight home for safety and shelter, while the ones that hung around were the brave ones, myself included, and we were ready for battle! I was more than prepared. I wore two to three layers of socks,  thermal underwear, and of course, warm, toasty gloves, even though the best snowballs were formed by glove-less hands...

  It was a rush to hear the sound of snowballs smacking against one another. When we saw the older kids running toward us, we knew we were in trouble!  The boys had no mercy, not even on us girls. I remember David running toward me with a perfectly round packed ball. He hit me hard in the back of my head and I could feel the wet powdery snow trickle down my bare back. It was freezing, but exhilarating!  I then had to retaliate and got revenge on David, whom I secretly had a wild crush on. The sounds of girls screaming while boys charged toward them, filled the schoolyard and surrounding blocks.

  Before long, the dim winter sun began to slip into darkness. It was time for us kids to get home and carry on with our daily after school activities. When I arrived home, I barely felt my fingers and toes. I took off all of my wet, cold layers of clothing, and sat by the radiator to thaw out.  My mom so lovingly stretched her hand out and gave me a steaming cup of hot chocolate, while nonna prepared a hot winter meal for the family. Ah, such splendor...the good old days...