Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Magic and Snow Angels

When I was little, my father had a magic sucre*.

He would send me out of the room for a while to "talk the sucre into playing," and when he called me back in (with the happy news that the sucre was willing), I would sit in excited anticipation. Dad would hold the coin up to his ear and listen intently. "It wants to go hide in the potted plant," he would say. Then he would cup the sucre in his hands, blow softly and – voilá! When he opened his hands, the coin was magically gone. I would run to the potted plant. There was the sucre, just waiting to be found.

The sucre flew to all sorts of places, of course. Into my mother's shoes, under the telephone, on top of the bookcase. Every time, I would be thrilled to find the coin exactly where Dad had said it would be.

As I got older, my faith in the magic of life took a few hits – like when I learned that Mom and Dad were the tooth fairy. Or found out that my letter from Queen Elizabeth was just a form letter (I had written her to express my thanks to Great Britain for creating Paddington Bear. To my parents' great credit, they actually mailed the letter.)

Around eight years old, I finally thought to check the year on the "magic sucre" after its first hiding place. When the second hiding place yielded a coin with a different year, the jig was up and magic took another hit.

When I was nine, we came to the States for a year. I was excited about winter in northern Indiana. Nancy Drew and the Bobbsey twins had all made snow angels, and now I would get to as well.

No one told me that making snow angels is cold, wet business. Still, as I lay on my back, feeling that delicious chill start to seep through my jacket while I stared up at the bright, blue winter sky, there was a moment when I felt the magic of life surround me again.

I never thought I'd forget, but the years have a way of eroding such moments.
Today, as I came back from the grocery store, I parked in the back of my house in order to unload my purchases more easily. Picking my way carefully across frozen patches, I got the first load to the door without any trouble, and congratulated myself. (Never a smart move for me. Never.) It was with the second load that I got a little hurried. The icy driveway, the snow on the grass, the chill in the air – I just wanted to get inside. That was when my left foot flew out from under me, my right leg started to head north, and my rear-end did a little impromptu hip-hop dance all its own.

I slid to a stop on the driveway, flat on my back in classic snow angel position, and found myself staring up at the bright, blue winter sky.

Mindful of maybe being spotted by neighbors and of the need to get my 50-year-old body inside and take some ibuprofen, I chose instead to lie there for a little while. White clouds drifted serenely overhead. That delicious chill began to seep through my jacket.

And for a few brief moments, it was magical again.


-------------------
*The sucre coin was the base unit of currency in Ecuador at that time.