Naturals

            The freezing cold air whips across my face as I sit on a park bench looking over the beautiful snow covered playground.  I love everything about winter.  The snow, that seems to envelope everything in simple beauty, sipping hot cocoa by the fire as I read a good long book, or even just looking outside and watching the snowfall for what feels like hours.

            Every year my Mom and I go on our first-snow-of-the-year-walk.  Sometimes she will even wake me up in the middle of the night, just so we can go outside and watch the beautiful scene of snowfall before us.  She says that all of her favorite memories have happened when it was snowing, including the birth of me.

            I put my boot down and started carving a circle in the snow, loving the way that the ice crunches beneath it. 

            Suddenly I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, interrupting my moment of sheer happiness.  I sigh, and pull it out of my pocket.  The screen reads, MOM.

            “Hey Mom,” I whisper into the phone, trying to be quiet so that I won’t disturb the scene around me.

            “Rory, why are you whispering,” my Mom asks super loudly through the phone.

            I wince and pull the phone away, my head hurting from the sudden amount of noise. 

            “Uh, no reason, so why did you call?” I say in my regular voice.

            “Well honey, I was just thinking that you should come home for dinner, I don’t want you getting pneumonia.  I have a nice homemade dinner ready,” Mom chirps in her usual perky voice.

            “By homemade do you mean you ordered pizza from Linguini’s?” I chuckle.  My mom would never ever in a billion years make anything homemade, and I’m fine with that because lets face it she is probably the worst cook on earth.  And I love pizza.

            “Oh, you know me too well,” my mom fake sighs into the phone.

            “Alright, I’ll be home right away,” I laugh, as I end the conversation, and stand up from the bench.  I take one last glance at the beautiful park, and make my way home.

            I enjoy the sounds of my boots on the snow-covered sidewalk, and that seems to make the walk to my house go by unbelievably quickly. 

            I smile as I look at my cute little yellow house, and swiftly make my way through the front door, and am overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of warmth.

            “I’m home,” I yell, as I hang up my navy blue down coat, and slip out of my insulated black boots. 

            “Come to the kitchen, I’m just sorting through some mail. Ah these blasted bills!” my mom hollers back.

 I smile.  My mom is probably the most hardworking person that I know, except when that work applies to cooking.  She is a single mother, and does everything in her power to make sure that I get everything that she never had.  For example: a good education.  Right now I am attending the best private school in Connecticut, of course on scholarship, but my mom couldn’t be more proud.

I make my way into the small kitchen that is covered in blue and white tiles.  My mom sits at our small two-chair table, with a cup of coffee in hand, looking intently at the envelopes that are stacked next to her.

I then notice the box of pizza next to her, and quickly take a slice, my mouth instantly exploding with happiness as I take a bite.  I slip down into the chair across from her, just in time to hear the doorbell ring.