BUT WHY MIMI! [Rants, Drabbles, Random Posts]

A Vignette I wrote in my 9th-grade writing class

Snow Play

A tiny me 3, maybe 4 years old, outside in the winter with my family, would play with snow in Rhode Island. It was cold, but not the kind of cold that you could deter from a light jacket and a beanie. No, this was the kind of cold that was brutal, the freezing temperatures made you afraid to blink because you were convinced that it would seal your eyes shut.

My nose was a bright pink hue, and my cheeks were no colour other than deep burgundy. My hands small and frail, sealed away from the arctic temperatures with only the brightest purple mittens, my head adorned a hat of the same shade. The heavy thick blue winter jacket that I wore would impair my motor skills as I tried to run. I always failed humiliatingly and fell.

 I used to play with the snow, and would attempt to build many snowmen but would usually end up covered in the snow because my tundric creation would fall on top of me. I would also make snow stairs out of the frozen blanket and try to bury myself under the icy cotton as though it was sand on a tropical beach during summer on the islands of Bora Bora.

 It isn't clear to me why it's the first thing I think of when I reminisce on my childhood, but I actually relish in this memory. Nothing made me happier as a child than playing in the frozen wonderland outside my house. Something curious inside me wonders why I don't think of things more vivid to me, such as my first time swimming without a life jacket, or playing around on the playground like other people, stuff that would be easier to describe, but instead my subconscious plays this blurred, opalescent, and almost forgotten retrospection of my past. Yet, I wouldn't change it for anything.