Today, he had some sort of emergency call regarding one of the properties in his expansion—he said he had to tie up some loose ends very quickly—and Carrie thought it might be a good idea to take the kids outside to keep them quiet until he was finished. She had a small, sled in the trunk of her car that she’d bought for snowy days when they’d run out of things to do. This would be a perfect activity to keep the kids and their noise out of the house while Adam took his call this morning. Carrie worked quickly to bundle the children for two reasons: one, so they wouldn’t disturb Adam and the rest of his sleeping family, and two, so they wouldn’t get too warm and decide to stay inside. With one last mitten, she’d dressed the twins, and she opened the door.
It was eerily quiet outside—no birds, no cars—just the sound of the wind in her ears. Carrie could feel the sting of it on her cheeks as she trudged through the thick, freshly fallen snow with the children in tow. They could barely walk in it, it was so deep, so Carrie asked them to try and walk inside her footsteps to keep them from falling. She reached her car, slipped the key in the lock on the trunk and popped it open. She grabbed the red and gold sled with two rope handles and a long rope for pulling and dropped it into the snow. She shut the trunk, slipped the keys into her pocket and turned around. They kids were already climbing on.
Both of them could barely fit on it together, their limbs intertwining as they attempted to get comfortable in all their clothes. Carrie surveyed the area. There wasn’t a hill in sight, but the road was packed down more than the yard, and, with no cars anywhere. She could probably pull them along the street, maybe run in circles, swinging them gently around. With her striped, mittened hands, Carrie grabbed the rope and began to pull. It took all her might to get the kids to the road, and by the time she got there, she was tired. The kids were giggling and scooting, trying to get it to move more, as Carrie struggled to pull it. Even on the street, the snow was so fresh that it was difficult to pull. If only a plow would come by and move some of it. Her hair was itching her icy face from under her stocking cap as she tried unsuccessfully to alleviate the itch with her mittens.
“I think you two are too heavy for all this snow,” she said. “I can hardly pull you.”
“Come on, Carrie!” Olivia said. “We’re not that heavy.”
Carrie pulled with all her might and they moved a few paces before the sled piled up too much snow in front of it and got stuck. “We need someone stronger,” she said. “Perhaps when Eric wakes up, he can pull you,” she said, feeling defeated. She didn’t want to take them inside, and she didn’t want to have to stop sledding. Disappointment was clear on both their faces, so she tugged again with barely any headway. She thought how if anyone were watching her, she probably looked ridiculous trying to pull these two kids in the snow. What had she been thinking? She stood for a minute to catch her breath, new flakes beginning to fall around her.
Then, the sound of the front door as it shut made its way through the silence to the street, and she turned around. Adam was on the landing, wearing a dark ski coat, jeans, and boots. He had on a stocking cap and gloves. “Do you need help with that sled?” he asked as he made his way to the street. Carrie watched him, worried that she’d interrupted his work with her ridiculous sled idea, but he was smiling, which was a good sign.
She felt the familiar nervous feeling overtake her anyway. After all, she was supposed to be watching the children, not him. She knew that. And she thought from what she’d seen of his mother, Joyce, that his southern manners wouldn’t allow him to watch a lady struggling with something and not help her, no matter what else he had to do. Was she imposing? Certainly, she was. He’d said himself that he had work to do.
“May I pull you two? It looks like too much fun not to join in.” Then, he smiled, and Carrie could feel the flush on her face.
“Yay, Daddy!” Olivia was bouncing on her bottom on the sled, David showing his slight irritation at being jostled. “Pull us, Daddy!” Olivia squealed.
Adam grabbed the end of the rope with his gloved hand, and, taking long, wide strides, he began to pull. The sled was difficult at first, but once he got it going, it was sailing along the street. Adam ran all the way down to the end and back, the kids’ laughter and the shushing of the sled the only sounds in all that snow. Carrie, who’d started to get cold, didn’t notice it anymore. She was warm with the sight of what was in front of her. Surely he was getting tired, but he kept going, as if he were powered by the laughter of his children. As she watched him, Carrie could feel the emotions bubbling up inside, and she blinked to keep the tears from spilling over. He was making a memory for these kids. As adults, one day, they’d tell their own children about the giant snow storm in Richmond when their Daddy pulled them on the sled all the way down the street and back. She just knew it.