Snowed Over

Having been used to sitting high upon a brow, I was not used to being brought down so low. Or to be so forgotten as I was now at this point in my life. The head cherished me that I laid upon, so how could this happen to me?

I still remember the day I was unwrapped, the excited laughter, the hoots about snowy weather that would soon be here, and the snow days with it. I wondered at the time what a snow day meant, but I have since learned the phrase's meaning.

I felt joy when the little head insisted on wearing me like a crown to bed for the first few weeks. Or when the little hands would pick me out of the many assorted hats that they owned. Oh, how my little heart soared, knowing I was chosen above all.

Then came the fated day. A glorious snow day to end all snow days. A snow day of blizzard proportions, or so said the little person on whose head I resided.

Once dressed accordingly, with me on his brow, my little person went outside for a full day of playing in the beautiful white wonderland. With me warming his head, we set out for an adventure together.

We participated in a snowball fight. My person laughed as they ran, tossing balls at other similarly clad persons who would throw balls back at them. Some of the snowballs would splat my person right in the head, and I would gladly take the brunt force of the blow, absorbing any cold or wet before it could get to my little person.

Then there was the sledding down what my little person gleefully referred to as The Suicide Run. We made many trips with the sled, sluicing down the snow-covered hill. How glorious it was to feel the frozen wind rushing through my threads, sledding down the hill, throwing snow up in our wake. It was such a wonderful time, the laughter, the sleds, and the snow.

The entire day, it snowed, and we went on adventures of epic proportions. Rarely did my little person want to venture inside to warm up or to use the restroom. The whole day seemed to be reserved for him and me.

The last thing we did together was to build what my little person claimed was the biggest and best snow fort on this side of the Mississippi. I happily laid on his head while he piled the snow and dug tunnels. Keeping his brow warm and dry was my main goal. But there were other plans in store for me.

I am not sure how it happened. My little person must have gotten hot inside the snow fort, for he did the unexpected. He removed me from his head. He took me down from the place that I was the crown of and laid me down on the ground beside him.

At first, I was not too worried. I was a favorite of my little person’s hat, after all. But the longer we sat in the fort, the more I worried that he forgot all about me. The moment my little person stood up and walked out of our snow fort, I knew for sure. I was forgotten.

Three weeks later, I lay on a pile of melting snow. Part of me was draped in some mud from the slush. I’ve given up on my little person coming back for me. I know now that I wasn’t even missed.

But wait, I hear a familiar voice and laugh. I feel familiar hands lifting me as the voice says, “There you are!”