There is something terribly cruel about loving winter,
having a winter birthday and yet a spring thaw arrives every time your birthday
rolls around. Such is my life. There is nothing I would love more than a foot
of snow tumbling down on February 21st, giving me a day to stay
indoors with a good book while I watch the winter wonderland outside. In most
places I’ve lived, that shouldn’t be an impossibility. After all, it is still a
whole month until the spring equinox. And yet you can bet that on February 21st,
no matter where I am in the world, there will be spring thaw. No snow. No need
for a coat. In fact, you can probably go swimming.
My mom has always known this little fact, but that has never
caused her to discourage the girl who would like to go sledding, or ice
skating, or have hot chocolate for her birthday. In 1991, it was no different.
I wanted an ice skating party. We lived in front of a golf course, so it was
simple to take your skates and go enjoy the iced over ponds throughout the New
Hampshire winters. My mom said that was fine. I invited four friends: Bridget,
Laura, Betsy and Lauren. It was all set. Until spring arrived.
I’m sure we had more freezing days of ice and snow after the
Friday and Saturday of my party that year, but for that weekend we saw weather
inviting the robins back early. A spring weekend like you would see in April –
temperatures that didn’t required a coat at all. Which equals no ice. Anywhere.
For ice skating.
Disappointment would probably be an understatement, although
my wonderful mother took it as she always did. You can’t change this problem,
so you square your shoulders, don’t complain and make the best of it. We called
my friends and asked them to bring their roller skates. After all, we had a
driveway to die for when it came to bikes and skates. And, in the end, it was a
wonderful 11th birthday.
Me, Lauren, Laura, Betsy and Bridget
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