A Thanksgiving Wish

Monday, November 29, 2004

Page 11

AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)

A Thanksgiving Wish

By J’AMY PACHECO

Boy, talk about your Thanksgiving miracle.

We were overbooked last weekend, and running short of sleep. Completely exhausted, I was sitting in front of my computer Saturday night when I was startled out of my chair by tapping and scratching at the glass door behind me.

Hurriedly grabbing my daughter, I warily turned on the porch light and discovered our house had been assaulted not by some potential intruder, but by marble-sized balls of hail. We opened the door, collected our icy treasures in a plastic bowl, and marveled at the unexpected change in weather.

As I tucked her into bed that night, my daughter asked if I thought it would snow. I told her I didn’t think it was possible.

“I wish it would snow,” she sighed.

The next morning, we were awakened unbearably early by my husband.

“Family,” he called. (Yes, we really talk like that at my house.) “You’d better come see this.”

Climbing out of bed, I noticed the room seemed brighter than usual. Outside my bedroom window was an incredible sight: my backyard had been transformed into — pardon the cliché — a winter wonderland.

My yard, and all the rooftops visible from my second-story window, were covered with a blanket of sparkling white snow.

Assuming this Southern California snow would follow tradition and disappear by mid-morning, we quickly bundled up and hurried outside with our cameras. After using a digital camera, old-fashioned 35mm film and some videotape to record this weather anomaly, we put our cameras away and built a snowman.

Historically, our snowmen have been pathetic creations, standing no more than a foot tall. We never get enough snow to create full-size snowmen.

This snowfall was different. Not only were we able to collect enough to make a big, fat frosty guy, but by starting with a small ball and rolling it in the snow, we were able to roll a huge body. I’d never had that kind of success with snow.

Our luck continued; I found a carrot in the refrigerator for a nose. We plucked some unidentified (and hopefully non-poisonous) berries from the bush in our front yard and used them to make a smile. Branches made arms, deceased flowers were used for hair, and I donated my scarf to keep our snow-guy warm.

The snow continued to fall long after we returned to the house to drink hot chocolate and roast marshmallows over the gas range. It fell all afternoon as we attended a dress-up tea party for a little girl named Catelyn, increasing in intensity as we drove home early in the evening.

Before bed Sunday, my daughter voiced another wish — that it would continue to snow, and school would be cancelled Monday. Although I doubted that would happen, I decided not to discourage her. After all, her wish had come true the night before.

Besides, the scene outside my bedroom window was something I’d never seen — a light, gray sky continued to drop snowflakes that looked in the streetlights like a million little butterflies.

Monday morning dawned unusually bright, and our radio advised us school was cancelled for the day. My husband was unable to make the trip through the mountain pass that separates our home from his office. Overjoyed, our little girl raced outside to spend the morning in a fresh blanket of pure white snow. Once again, her wish had come true.

Several years ago, she made a similar wish the night before St. Patrick’s Day. I assured her that snow would NEVER fall in our desert region that late in the year – only to awaken the following morning to find the leprechauns had proven me wrong. Neither of us has forgotten that day.

While many of our wishes have apparently fallen on deaf ears, we’ve had just enough of these kinds of events to make us think wishes can come true.

For these little moments of magic in our life, I am thankful. I’m thankful for the girl who never loses faith in the power of wishes, and her little tea-party friends who make every moment spent together seem magical.

I’m grateful for my strange-talking family, my good friends who make me laugh and who laugh at me. I’m thankful that I get to work with nice people doing a job that gives me a great deal of satisfaction.

I’m thankful for the peace I find in my little world, and wish that it would extend to the rest of the planet.

That’s my Thanksgiving wish. Far-fetched, maybe. But you’ll never convince me it can’t come true.