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When play was work, and work was play

iciclesI kick away the packed and icy snow from the slate walk and it breaks into chunks. Like tectonic plates, the continents move aside to reveal the dark stone underneath.

I am transported back to the elementary school playground. Hour upon hour we played 4-square on that black top. Except on icy days when inch-thick plates of ice prevented access. On those days, with the heel of my snow boots, I pounded and pounded until a few inches and then a few more gave way. Others join in the assault. Occasionally, a large sheet gives way and a shout of triumph rings out.

The school bell sounds. Man, that was a lot of work!
Next recess, we play.

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