I pushed my cherry red fire truck farther into the white. The snow lay perfectly untouched throughout the entire yard. My younger brother followed close behind, ready to help in any way he could. He had his bright yellow Minnesota Gophers stocking cap pulled down to his eyes. His rosy round cheeks contrasted with the yellow of his Columbia winter jacket. I was a second grader with no worries other than which way to make a road through the snow.

I loved snow days so much. My mom was always home, and my brother and I got to play outside. We woke up in our shared bedroom to the sound of my mom’s voice whispering, “School is cancelled.” We both jumped out of bed and looked out our windows. We saw the blinding blanket of white covering the ground and snowflakes so big they made it hard to see across the yard. There was a certain peace to this sight that made me happy.

I looked over at my brother, Marcus, and said, “Let’s go outside!” We ran downstairs, throwing on our winter gear over our pajamas.

I was layered in black snowpants and blue Columbia winter jacket, my hands cocooned by gloves; I only wanted gloves, never mittens. Mittens hindered my ability to play.
Grabbing the top of the three-foot-long truck, I pushed my way through the snow on my knees. My brother, following the leader, had his smaller yellow dump truck eagerly pushing at my toes. I continued to scoot across the yard, planning a road system. We imagined a town, creating branching roads to lead to garages, parking lots, and “off-road” trails.

We started by breaking through the hard bank of thick shoveled snow on the edge of the sidewalk. Once we pushed through the heaping pile, we created “the main road,” as we called it. I was a perfectionist. I made rules that Marcus had to follow. I told him, “You have to walk on your knees.” This prevented the road from looking like a foot path and made it easily “driveable.” The second rule was, “You can’t make your own trail without my permission.” This was because I was greedy. I didn’t want him ruining the perfect snow that could still be used for new trails.

“Why can’t I create a road?” Marcus asked sadly. I explained my logic. This was all he needed to be persuaded.
The third and final rule was, “You have to be following or helping me.” If he was near me, I could make sure he followed my instructions. Plus, the whole project was more fun when I had someone doing it with me. I didn’t want to be alone.

Next, my creative mind crafted the main intersection, then drove up a pile of old shoveled snow, pretending it was a steep mountain. We made square parking lots in the open areas of the yard. I designed a garage for my truck under a mound of snow. Marcus copied me and created a smaller garage next to mine.

Once we finished all this, we drove back to the beginning. We ran up the sidewalk and up the porch steps to the front door. I opened the door of the warm house, and Marcus and I yelled with excitement, “Mom! Come look at what we made!”

She looked over her shoulder, breaking her attention from the Hallmark movie she had been watching. “Okay, let me get my coat on.” This was the longest anticipated wait for Marcus and me. She got up from the couch and slipped on her coat and mittens. Marcus and I rushed to our trucks. We were smiling ear to ear as we tripped over each other leaving the doorway.
My mom stood on the sidewalk, watching with full attention. I drove my truck over the whole map of roads we had created. I explained every area and its importance to our town.
My mom approved, saying, “Wow, that’s really cool!”
“Look at mine!” Marcus piped in. He always had his own version of something. At first I didn’t want him going off the trails I had made, but I allowed him to make his own areas after I had created all the roads.

Marcus was always the follower. When I started to force him to work on an area, he started to feel used. I knew he didn’t like it, but I didn’t care at the time. I continued to push him to do the long tedious work I didn’t want to do, but after a while, he grew tired of it and went inside. I had scared my little brother away with my bossy attitude. I tried to continue playing by myself, but it was no use. It wasn’t fun playing a game meant for two. Going inside, I pleaded with him to come back out – I knew that for him to have an equal amount of fun, he needed to have the same freedom that I did.
After that argument, I let Marcus create whatever he wanted. I allowed him to go first, and I followed. He didn’t ruin anything, and he probably made our creation better. I was worried for nothing. He showed me that as long as I had someone to play with, I would be happy.

When it started to get dark, we went inside after the long day of play. The warmth of the house stung my nose and made my eyes water. My cheeks were numb and red. My gloves were caked with ice, creating an ice bracelet that turned my wrist bright red. Our pajama pants were soaked. My socks had wiggled down to my heel after kicking off my boots.
As Marcus and I ran into the kitchen, our mom asked, “Did you hang up your winter clothes?”

We both responded with an irritated, “No.” It was a habit of ours to leave our clothes in a big wet mess.

“Go hang them up so they dry!” After doing that, we raced back to warm up and enjoy the homemade chocolate chip cookies she had baked.