34/4

There is a magical sixth sense in children when it snows at night, especially a school night. Unlike most Tuesday mornings, Isaac and Peter Taylor eagerly opened their eyes and were instantly full of energy. They leapt from their beds and bounced to the window, where, shoulder to shoulder, they looked out and saw the limbs of the tall pine tree bowing with the weight of a fresh blanket of heavy white snow; there was a new and wondrously white world just outside their window. Their hearts raced and they were full of excitement. Pete quickly turned on the clock radio that sat on the nightstand between their beds. “No school!” The shout rose from the Taylor household, as well as every house with school age children in the valley. In mere minutes, an ordeal that normally took close to an hour of nagging, yelling, and prodding to accomplish was done. The boys were dressed, downstairs, and ready to go in record time. They had to be corralled and forced to sit down long enough to eat a bowl of oatmeal and drink a cup of hot chocolate before being allowed to run out the door thirty minutes before they would normally leave. The hill they were going to at Thompson’s Tree Farm was a long walk from the Taylor house, but the hill was the best in the area. The tree farm was located on the banks of the Housatonic River, and when it was covered with ice it was a great way to end the ride. Isaac was amazed at the distance he had traveled. He looked up over his shoulder at his brother on top of the hill, and was surprised by how far away Pete was and how small he looked way up on the hill. Isaac rolled off the sled, rose to his feet, jumped up, and punched his fist in the air while he yelled to his brother. When he came back down, the thin ice beneath him gave way.