Snow Withdrawal

After his brief (and painful) jaunt in Aspen Colorado, Gonga thought that he would be thrilled to be back in Columbia. But he had forgotten how much he loved snow. And being on a ski slope in Aspen did nothing to help the memories stay buried.

Now, back in Columbia, the streets looked dingy and bare. Fog hanging over the street lamps glowered sullenly. And the mournful sound of ice-scraping greeted Gonga’s ears each morning. Worst of all, Gonga’s new winter coat hung un-used in the closet of his apartment.

What was wrong with Columbia? Where was the snow storm he so enjoyed last year? The spring of snow and ice that seemed to lock the town in an everlasting grip?

Gonga kicked at a pebble and watched it skitter down the street downtown. Last year he would have been kicking snow. No, correction: he would have been throwing snow.

He remembered the snow-balls fights, and the snow forts, and the tunnels burrowed in the mounds and mounds and mounds of snow.

Gonga knew that he shouldn’t be missing snow this much. After growing up in the Congo, snow was a novel experience, a freak of nature he had not before been subjected to. But once was enough to form an addiction. And the withdrawal symptoms were hitting hard.

Gonga found himself staring into the freezer for minutes on end each night, imagining that the frost on the sides was snow forming. He paused in front of Coldstone, wondering if there was a way to run water across the icecream freezers and get snow to form. Maybe if someone spritzed the water out of a spray bottle? He even pondered stopping in at Buck’s ice-cream and asking if they could let him sit in their freezer for a few minutes, just so he could savor the feeling of cold penetrating to the bone again.

Outside Hatch Hall, Gonga stopped his frenzied pacing for a moment to glare up at the clouds. When would they stop mocking him? When would they give their snow?

He beat his chest in a wild jungle howl and began running, charging across campus, leaving swirls of started students in his wake.

The Textbook Game Blogger: Laura Prather