POND HOCKEY in Short stories

POND HOCKEY - (A short story by a Winchester, MA son) - The sun is rising and I peer out the window at the freshly fallen snow, bright and always so beautiful. I can hear the plows, and the sanders going by on Highland ave as I race downstairs to turn on the TV adjust the dial to the news instead of cartoons and also the radio awaiting the school closing announcements.

The Fire horn lets out two blasts, its 7:30am c’mon c’mon is there School I ask myself. Then I shriek with joy as it has been declared its a snow day, yippee.

Quickly I throw on layers of shirts and my best pair of Sears tough skin jeans, several layers of socks topped with wonder bread bags then on Go the boots, jacket, hat, gloves, scarf as I wolf down a bowl of Frosted Flakes! What mom fails to know is I have matches in my pocket.

There are no calls to Friends, no texts, no emails, it’s a snow day and we all know what to do.

I dash out the door having grabbed my Dads best snow shovel, he’s gonna be wicked pissed off, and tied my hockey skates together and thrown them with my hockey stick and shovel over my shoulder and grabbed my hockey gloves

I trudge through the snow headed to the entrance of the Fells just up my street, Wolcott rd, guaging it’s weight and depth dreaming of the goals I shall score today on Long Pond.

The trail is steep as I survey the naked maple, oak, beach, and chestnut trees lining the old worn path, always so quiet, bright, and beautiful after a snow made me dream of the Sachem Indian life and how they walked this same path.

The snow is deep yet the real question is, is it powdery and lite or is it wet and heavy and hard to shovel. You see the easier to shovel the faster til we are racing up and down the ice stick handling like champs.

I arrive and start to stake out the rink my buddies and I will shovel and skate til near frostbite. It will be ours for the day as he who shovels it skates, and protects, it.

On go my skates, wonder bread bags left in my boots on the rocks, and I skate and skate pushing that shovel clearing the path as others start to arrive.

We clear the snow then one is elected to take off a skate and on an edge of our rink chip a whole through the ice to let water up so we can spread it over the old bubbly ice and snow and create a beautiful smooth skating surface, ahhh the memories.

Quickly boots are set up as goal posts and the endless hours are passed skating, checking, scoring, sweating, laughing, crying, and cursing our young heads off… “Orr is skating down the right wing he avoids the defense shoots and scores”

Late afternoon sets in early as the light fades, the puck becomes hard to see, and the cold enters your tired wet from sweat body. A Fire is started on the rocky outcrops of Long Pond as you heat your frozen boots to soften them so you can put them on. You have long since been able to feel your toes and feet and as you place your frozen feet into your warm boots it’s stings like crazy and soon pins and needles set in as you stomp your feet to return circulation.

Stories swirl about who scored the best goal or impressed the odd girl who came to watch the boys.

The sun is setting, the ice groans and cracks loudly, which seems to reverberate through your chest. You grab Dads best shovel, and your hockey stick over the shoulder with your skates, and quickly down the snow packed trail, as you laugh and continue to brag about that goal.

Friends peel off as the journey home continues and the fading calls of “my goal was better than yours” as the distance grows between friends, and you shiver violently from the cold and fatigue as home approaches.

Into the mud room you go boots, wonder bread bags, wet socks, coat, hat, gloves, all dumped on the floor after failed attempts to hang on hooks. Mom shouts “ is that you Robert” ya Ma I’m home. “You must be hungry” I’m starved!

Dinner is a struggle to stay awake as warmth re enters your body. You sit by the fire often stretched out laying on the floor petting the dog drifting off to sleep dreaming of wearing that B’s uniform one day!

Snow Days Rock!

( Grammar Police be kind I write as fast as I think and prefer to avoid rewriting as it becomes contrived so often errors remain … be kind thank you )