The Grown-Up

March 9, 2008
By Chelsea Humphries, Toronto, ZZ

It’s snowing!
The notion sends a thrill of
Back-breaking, childlike adrenaline
Down my spine as the flakes fall outside the window,
Spinning in choreographed patterns
In an attempt to hypnotize me
Calling my name as if I were ten.

“Come! I can be your castle, your fortress!
I will be your ammunition and your canvas!
I will be a blanket and a bath, all in one!
Yes, you, ten-year-old, I can see you,
Hiding there inside that grown-up standing inside
With their scalding, delicious coffee—
You know that it’s disgusting anyway
So trade it in for your mitts and hat;
Come outside and join me!”

It rages and piles softly into tempting dunes
Whispering and roaring as it pulls at my heart
Tearing me into two:
But there’s only one that succeeds
As I watch the coffee spiraling down the drain
And I pull on my mitts and my hat
To find the shovel.

The driveway must be cleared.

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