Battling the Big Chill

With every shovelful of the heavy wet snow I cursed myself for buying a house with such a long driveway. Nearly two hours and I was just approaching the halfway point. I swore that the next time I would arrange for a snow-plowing company to take care of it.

Despite the cold wind I could feel sweat dampening the back of my shirt while every breath I exhaled seemed to freeze solid in mid-air before my eyes.

I began to give serious consideration to my sister's suggestion of moving to south Florida.

During a short respite I was leaning on my shovel gazing forlornly at the 75 feet of knee deep snow between the road and me when a snow plow rumbled by depositing a four foot high mound of frozen snow-boulders at the foot of my driveway.

Winter wonderland my eye.

There was very little doubt in my mind that snow was nothing more than a cruel and humorless joke perpetrated by the Gods to make life miserable. As if to punctuate my thoughts the falling snow became thicker and the wind pushed it into my eyes painfully.

Using my hatred for winter as fuel, I dug into the task and thought about the warm fire and cold beer I would enjoy when this was over.

So deep was I in my thoughts that I never heard the two boys approach. I looked up and there they were, standing in my front yard, bundled up like they were preparing to visit the South Pole.

My first thought was that they wanted to make me an offer on finishing the job and I was already telling myself that whatever fee they asked would be fair and equitable. I leaned on my shovel and spoke to them.

"What's up, guys?"

The taller of the two bent down and scooped up a handful of snow and began making a snowball.

"Wanna have a snowball fight?" he asked me. "Us against you."

His bright blue coat stood out against the white snow like a beacon, I remembered having one very similar to it when I was young. Judging by the sound of his voice he couldn't have been more than ten or eleven.

I don't know if I was more disappointed or angry that they weren't there to relieve me of my duties.

"Sorry," I said as I resumed shoveling. "I've got too much to do."

"Aww, come on," the other one said. "It'll be fun."

"Look guys, snow might be loads of fun for you, but it's nothing but a huge pain in my backside. So you'll have to find somebody else to have your snowball fight with."

I thought I knew all of the neighborhood kids, but I didn't recognize either of these two. Not that it mattered; I was more concerned with finishing the job.

Out of nowhere a snowball struck me high on the right shoulder, followed by another, then two more in quick succession. The ambush was followed by gales of laughter from my visitors.

Throwing down my shovel I ran toward them hoping to scare them away, they turned and ran through the snow, which was nearly up to their waists, and I screamed after them.

"And don't come back."

Five minutes later I was back to being angry only at the snow that filled my driveway and prevented me from spending Sunday in front of the television watching football.

The snowball hit me square in the back of the head and I felt the frozen crystals begin to find their way under the collar of my jacket. Brushing frantically to remove the large clump of snow before it all found its way down my back, I turned to see the two boys standing in my front yard again, each with a small mound of snowballs at his feet and laughing hysterically. I decided to fight fire with fire, as it were.

I reached down and scooped up some snow, packed it quickly into a sphere the size of a baseball and let it fly at the taller boy, followed quickly by another at his compatriot.

The first one sailed wide, but the second one found its mark, connecting solidly with the boy's chest. I repeated the action and this time hit the taller one in the leg.

Instead of running as they had before they erupted into laughter as they each bent down, armed themselves and returned fire.

I was forced to retreat to the shelter of a nearby pine tree and reload.

"Little bastards want a war, I'll give them a war," I muttered to myself.

I quickly manufactured several snowballs while the tree was pelted by theirs. Snow fell from the branches, covering my head. When they were forced to pause for reloading I stepped from behind my bastion and opened fire. My barrage forced them to fall back to the corner of the house, where I could hear them laughing uncontrollably. I found myself smiling as I carried a snowball in each hand a moved into a position to launch another attack.

I crept slowly to the middle of the driveway, knowing that in another ten feet I would have a clean line of sight to my targets; my smile grew as I anticipated their shock and awe at my offensive. I took the last three steps quickly and brought my arm back to a firing position and yelled "Ah-hah!"

They were gone.

Before I could ask myself where they had vanished to I heard the tell tale sound of giggling a split second before I was pelted from behind. I spun and fired my two snowballs quickly to cover my escape and fled to the other end of the house with my attackers in full pursuit.

The snowball fight lasted for at least an hour, probably longer, I'm not sure exactly because I was having so much fun the time flew by. The misery of shoveling the driveway was replaced by a joy so pure that it could only be experienced by someone with no troubles.

How was that possible?

I had plenty of troubles. I had a mortgage that rivaled the national debt, a job that was completely unfulfilling and nothing to look forward to in life but Sunday afternoon football. How could I be having so much fun?

As I crouched behind the garage preparing a sneak attack, I suddenly realized that my face hurt from laughing.

I sensed no movement from the enemy. They must be regrouping or preparing to try a flanking maneuver. I decided to try and coax them out of hiding.

"You guys had enough?" I yelled.

Silence.

They were trying to out-wait me.

Peering around the corner I saw frozen puffs of air from behind my van. Bingo, I had them.

I launched a snowball at the car and hit the fender solidly, only to flush the neighbor's dog from his place on the other side.

I conducted a thorough search of the yard and couldn't find them.

"Hey come on out guys. You can't be that scared."

No reply.

I walked to the front of the yard and looked up and down the street. Through the heavily falling snow I thought I could make out two figures disappearing in the distance, one of them wearing a bright blue coat. I thought he turned and waved.

As I walked to the house, somewhat disappointed that the game was over, I spotted my snow shovel, which was now nothing more than a snow covered lump in the driveway. I hesitated briefly before continuing on into the house.

Forget it, I thought. It can wait.

I never found out who the two boys were nor did I ever see them again, but in a couple of hours on a snowy Sunday they taught me how to look at things a little differently.

Sometimes life dumps a ton of snow on you and there's nothing you can do to stop it - and even though you may have to shovel it, you can also have a snowball fight with it.

It's all up to you.