Sand Angels

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

This morning I went out into the front yard and saw something new.

This frozen puddle. 
It reminded me of a geode cutout...

I've never seen anything like it. 

As a kid we had to improvise because we never had snow.
In the wintertime after school, some of the kids in day care would decide that that particular 90-degree December day was the one.

We would make sand angels.

So onto the sand we would go, swinging our arms up and down,
legs in and out.
The warm sand gently kissing the back of your neck and the palms of your hands;
laughter numbingly moving through what should have been crisp December air,
but wasn't.

We would stand to look at our glorious creations that would never stay in their desired shape because the sand would roll right back down into the pit that had just been made.

They never looked like angels.
And the sand that would creep into the neck of your shirt and the top of your pants and into your underwear; the dust that made your hair gritty and artificially lighter in color than it really was almost made it not worth it.

But this was how we improvised.
This was how we had fun.

I remember the one day in snowed in my hometown, California in all my life living there.
I must have been eight or nine years old.
The snow only fell from the sky for maybe thirty seconds, and the small fragments of snow returned to their aqueous state the moment they touched the ground--or anything, for that matter.
But it was the talk of the entire school that day because it was the most unusual thing to have ever happened to us.

I'll never forget that day or the sand angels in the playground at my elementary school.
Now that sand is two thousand miles from here and the laughter remains a stagnant ghost in the back of my mind.

Oh, how the seasons have changed.


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