...I lay on my back in the snow, battered and bruised, staring at the moving gray clouds above. The charge had been a disaster and my brother, finally coming to his senses, sat whimpering behind an oak tree. Into view, standing above me suddenly appeared a giant smirking face and my former friend, Timmy. "You want some more of that, chump?", the giant said, Timmy nervously laughing by his side, snowballs still in his hands. I couldn't respond. I fought the urge to tear up; the time for heroism was gone.
The two victors began to slowly walk away, but not before the goon kicked some loose snow in my face and Timmy lobbed another snowball as Scott. It was a final show of power and a mortal blow to the Green boy's egos. As Timmy and the giant walk back home we could hear them laughing, relishing in their triumph.
My sadness over the situation began to turn to anger. Those turds had cheated for one thing and they had hurt my little brother for another. As the two figures laughed and walked further away, my anger grew. Laying in the freezing snow didn't seem to cool me down. I found myself being picked up off of the ground, snow in each hand. I felt that snow being packed tightly in my gloves, forming the perfect projectile for exacting a bit of vengeance. The two cheaters, now quite small in the distance, laughed again. Something popped in my head and I felt my arm cock back and my vision hone in on one key area; the top of the giant goon's head. All else in the periphery had gone fuzzy. The top of the boy's crew-cut may as well have been a target as I felt myself take a hopping step forward, exacting my full weight behind a lunging heave of a throw.
The snowball left my hand and swinging arm which looked something akin to the minute hand of a clock in fast motion with a perfect release at 1 o'clock. This created a wide arcing lob, the zenith reaching some 30 feet high. The snowball gained speed as it fell, reaching terminal velocity as its downward force of gravity equaled the upward force of drag. Timmy and the giant continued to walk farther away, laughing, unaware of the approaching frozen projectile.
I have sometimes felt that God physically intervenes in my daily activities. And as a 10 year old child, I felt as if God Himself directed that snowball. As an adult, looking back on the situation, I am certain of it. The snowball crashed into the unprotected head of the bully, exploding, sending him prostrate onto the pavement. He was out. Timmy turned around stunned, his crooked bangs swinging, and I am certain to this very day he can't figure out how I hit his friend at that range. Sometimes there is no explanation for these things, and who would need one anyway? As for me, I'm just content knowing that the Green boys won in the end. And the bad guys lost a little dignity that day.
Things were never the same after that. It would be the last time we sought out Timmy on one of our visits to Spartanburg. After the snowball fight we finished the day in the comfort of Grandma Harris' living room, nursing our wounds, sipping hot chocolate and listening to adult political commentary. Enjoying every minute of it.