6:02 a.m., Saturday morning. It’s early but my eyes crack open slightly and I roll underneath my covers. I stretch my arms and legs, making loud groans as my body twists and turns. Half awake, my legs drag me to the window and I pull up the shades.
Blinded by the morning light, my fingers feel for the window locks and unlock them. As I pull open the window the cold, winter air fills my room. I shiver, hugging myself to hold in the warmth. My eyes finally adjust and a smile creeps across my face. Winter’s first snow has arrived.
I take one last whiff of the morning air and shut my window gently. Everyone is still sleeping, enjoying the comforting warmth of their beds. However, I am wide awake and excited. Slowly, I strip off my pajamas and pull on a first layer of clothing. Heading to the kitchen, I start my parents’ coffee and slide a tray of biscuits into the oven. It won’t be long before everyone is awake. Lightly tiptoeing to the closet and opening the door soundlessly, I rummage through the mess. At last I spot the bag. All the way in the back closet it sits and has been sitting since last winter. I notice my mother as usual, has clearly labeled the outside “Winter Stuff” and folded all the contents. With a bit of excitement, I tip the bag upside down letting the insides pile onto the floor. Sorting through the items one by one, I separate them into each family member’s belongings.
The smell of biscuits has filled the kitchen and is slowly making its way to the bedrooms. It won’t be much longer now.
A rustling sounds from my parents’ room and then a creak from the bed. A single grunt escapes my dad’s mouth and his footsteps begin. Scratching his head, he enters the kitchen. He notices the biscuits and the mess I’ve made on the floor. He chuckles softly and smiles at me. One by one they wake up and enter the kitchen looking slightly dazed and confused. They catch a glimpse of what I have started and they all smile immediately. This isn’t just my favorite family tradition. My little brother and sister run towards the window and stare out in awe. They giggle excitedly and high-five each other. After eating our breakfast, each of us grab our pile of “Winter Stuff” and head to our rooms to change.
My dad hollers, “Are you guys ready yet?” and we all sprint as fast as we can
“Almost there,” I tell myself through clenched teeth. Relief washes over me as the soles of my boots delicately place themselves on the stone ground below my bedroom window.
When I wake up to the ear-splitting sound of my alarm clock, and blindly search for the snooze button, a sudden thought dawns: "What am I doing?"
We wonder into the bedroom and crawl into the cool welcoming sheets. I shut my eyes, but not before
I took small steps towards the dark hallway silent as a mouse I headed towards the living room door, I stopped moving. Breathing shallowly I looked
be right. What little light left in her eyes muffled by lids, she shrinks against the door.
The harshly cold air causes me to shuffle along stiffly. I pull my hood up over my head with my
she puts the breakfast dishes on the table and addresses her owners with a "yes
ness. Nevertheless, it was easily the warmest place in the house and all household activities were being conducted there that day. My dad was trying to conquer a video game with little success, and my brother and I toiled with our homework achieving an equal lack of accomplishment. The culprit of our distraction was undoubtedly the pot roast that waited upstairs for us, taunting our empty stomachs with its heavy smell which floated over the moldy air of the basement like oil on water. The aroma must have reminded my mother to afford the roast a checkup, for she had abandoned the laundry and was ascending the stairs.
I started out the night by sleeping. The couch makes a very comfy nap spot, when I’m allowed on it. Following that, I began to make my way
I slide out of bed switching on my lamp on the nightstand next to me. I dragged myself to the bathroom switching on that light as well. I start running the cold water and splash myself in the face several times. I place my nervous and shaky hands on the counter gripping it hard. My knuckles start to turn white. I take another deep breath in and out.
27). My mornings are routine and I move very quickly to get everything accomplished. After
oven. I get up to go to the kitchen, and her pug, Mack, jumps up and tries to
I brush my eyes awake, feeling the cold seeping in from my window. It’s 9 AM and it’s winter in Minnesota. Feeling sleepy, I stand up and go outside. I love the winter air. It always refreshes my mind and there’s just a cold bite to it that I enjoy. Coming back inside, I boot up my computer, hoping to enjoy it a little before heading out. The winter days swim together, phasing throughout my mind, and I fall asleep again, or I have woken up.
A few minutes later, my mom woke me up and we went into a room. There