Once when we were young there was a Snow Day, but no one told us in our house.
We children rose in the dark, dressed in the cold, trudged through the storm to make it to school.
We found brooms and shovels, cleared the steps, swept the paths so others would not fall.
We dried logs, built fires to make the classrooms warm, worked all day, but no one else arrived.
In the distance, children carried sleds, skates, frolicking as they passed, hurrying by but never stopping.
At dusk workers came to clear the snow. They laughed with joy to see their work already done and told us the news. The storm, the snow, the whole city shut down, all the schools closed and the children off.
We left at once, rushing home to find our mother and share the joyful news. But she already knew. Had known all day.
We were free as butterflies, but she didn’t say.