Groundhog Day

The Groundhog Day celebration was in full swing. The entire town had emptied into the square - which was packed with all manner of colorful coats and hats like a big bowl of breakfast cereal. I had just arrived - with all of the commotion, and the surge of out of towners visiting for the ceremony, I had kept the candy store open as long as I could. It was tough to shut my doors on the steady stream of bright eyed children coming through the front door, the bell hanging from the door frame constantly jingling. I tossed some chocolate bars to the few on their way in, and locked up - I, like all the citizens of Punxsutawny, won't miss the ceremony for anything.

I waved hello to Bill, the owner of the tool shop and his family, and tipped my hat to Larry, the auto mechanic. He had a new girl on his arm, a short blond with a wild Technicolor scarf. Oh that Larry. I made my way past the core of the crowd, where all of the townspeople who were prone to dancing were hopping up and down to bright little jig. The rotary club band was fighting with their old instruments and older lungs to throw the song over all the chattering people. I caught the glint of a french horn and gave Peter a wave - we played in the highschool band together.

I made my way to the front of the crowd just as the Grandmaster was beginning the opening remarks. His face shook as he proclaimed the prosperous year, and the new families of the community, and how well the highschool basketball had done this season. Steam bellowed out of his mouth like a train engine, and he paced left and right on the stage with all the practiced movements of a minister. When he unrolled the proclamation and recited it, the crowd was completely silent, save for the rustling of a few coats. Not even Ms. Haddonfield's baby cried, and that baby could wail through a whole church service.

Finally the time came for the Grandmaster to bring the Groundhog out of his home - a thick cedar box, with a mesh window. He took a large key, and unlocked the front of the box. The air was sucked out of the crowd - not an individual blinked. I had waited the whole year for this moment - would the Groundhog see his shadow? There must be something compounding about suspense in a crowd. The weight of the silence seemed about ready knock us over.

The front of the box fell open, and the Groundhog stepped out. First his nose, twitching and searching left and right. Then his paw, feeling for the ground outside. He came completely out of the box, and looked about himself. He saw nothing.

We gasped a collective gasp. The Groundhog did not see his shadow.

We burned the Groundhog because it was a witch.

The crowed danced and sang while the fire burned out and the street lights came on.

I walked home, feeling warmer than I had all winter. Only three hundred and sixty four more days till the next Groundhog Day. I couldn't wait.