Did you get very many snow days off from school when you were a kid? If you have kids, do they get very many nowadays?

I grew up in the D.C. area, where it was a definite possibility. Mornings with wintry weather found me huddled next to my clock radio, counting the seconds until the DJ would run through the list of delays and cancellations. There were no more beautiful words to hear than "we've just received a couple of new closings."

I was often frustrated in my desire for a snow day, however, because—during my elementary and middle school years—the Virginia county where I lived tended to be stingier with such cancellations than its neighbors. I'd hear the DJ rattle off a dozen or so counties that were closed, waiting desperately to hear mine, analyzing on the fly whether the list seemed to be in alphabetical order or if my county might still be tacked on to the end.

Then, as often as not, nothing, or that dread goose-egg of a consolation prize, a two-hour delay.

I moved away before high school and later learned from a friend that he'd been injured in a bus crash on icy roads, after which the county had grown more cautious.

"The kids should build a statue of me or something," he said, rubbing his neck, which was still paining him on the day we spoke, at least five or six years after the accident.

This week's essay is a snapshot of waiting for snow in the Oakes household, on the first day after Christmas break.

All my best,

-Otto