A Marshmallow World

On mornings like this morning when waking up to a breathtaking soft and fluffy snowfall, I think of my mother. Growing up, on days like these, she'd go to our 'entertainment console'-a big, clumsy piece of furniture made for stubbing toes, where inside there was an AM/FM radio which was a big deal, a record player for all of our many 45 records and 331/3 albums (a really big deal) as well as a storage place for the albums-albums including Sonny & Cher, The Beatles, Glen Miller, Perry Como, Simon & Garfunkel, Boston Pops, Frank Sinatra, and So many more.

Of all of her choices on those wintry, snowy mornings, she'd always select a Dean Martin album and when that funny and talented man began singing, "It's a Marshmallow World", she'd sing and dance around the house while dusting, doing dishes, making beds. She'd play that song over and over again. Sometimes, if I was there, I'd pretend to be annoyed-that's just what preteens and teens do sometimes. Other times, I'd sing and dance along as did my siblings.

Looking back, I always loved it when she played that song. It was a happy song. It was fun watching my mother let her hair down and let loose, dancing and singing around the house doing her everyday chores as the snow kept falling.
If it was the weekend or if school was cancelled, I'd end up outside with siblings and cousins playing in the snowdrifts and playing down at the creek for what seemed forever. I don't remember ever getting cold.

Now that I think about it, I bet my mother loved it when we went outside to play. I bet she turned the volume up and kept dancing along with Dean-singing even louder; laughing and carefree on such "a whip cream day."