Winter's Approach

"Are you ready?" The gruff voice of a man asked his shorter companion. The person in particular lifted his plaid scarf over his tiny nose, nodding up at his father in response.

"Okay then, here we go Nicky!" The man grasped the fragile hand of his young boy and opened the front doors of the recording studio building, stepping briskly out into the frosty night. As he did so, a strong gale blew in a torrent of sharp snowflakes which swirled about them and darted whimsically across the warm room, only to land upon the multicolored carpet and melt a few minutes later into the rough floor.

The father and son haphazardly sprinted towards their vehicle which was conveniently located near the entrance of the old white building they had just departed from. Once they reached their brightly painted red Chevron, the older male scrambled for his keys; fumbling for them as the cold began to freeze his large fingers. He finally succeeded in unlocking the car door, and proceeded to pull him and his son into the van that sheltered them from the bitter north winds that graced the northeast coast every winter. Here in New Jersey, they were provided with no exception from the violent onslaught of snow and wind. And although they were used to the approaching cold, it was always a shock and a slight struggle to proceed through one's normal routine without being forced to endure the aggravating cold.

"Whew! That was a close one, eh Nick?" The heftily built man tugged on the scarf that was tied around his neck, slipping it down to dangle across his broad shoulder blades. His son presented his dainty hands to his father, making it easier for his dad to help remove his burgundy mittens. The young boy blinked away a few flakes that had gotten attached to his dark eyelashes during their trek across the parking lot. He smiled back in agreement with his father,

"Yeah! I thought I was going to get covered in an avalanche back there!"

"Ha hah! You sure look like you did, son! Look, you're covered in snow!" Nick looked down at himself, realizing that his pants were adorned with a light powder.

"You better brush yourself off before we get home. Man, your mother's gonna be worried over you and of course she'll probably get mad at me, thinking I let you catch a cold or something." Nick's father sighed, rubbing his forehead in circles to massage the stress away. Nick unzipped his coat, setting it on the passenger seat next to him as he assured his father that nothing bad would happen.

"Don't worry Dad! I'll tell her that I wanted to have a snow ball fight and that I wouldn't listen to you when you told me to come back or something."

"Pah, like that would work Nicky! You listen to everything we say! If you were Joe on the other hand…," He trailed off as he turned and winked at his son. They broke out in laughter as they reminisced upon the antics of Joseph, Nick's older brother by two years. Nick, who had recently turned ten years old, still remained the youngest member of the Jonas family.

"Anyways, are you thirsty at all?"

"Yeah," Nick stated, "Why Daddy?"

"Well…I was thinking we could stop at the café before we went home for dinner. How does that sound?"

"Great! I love going to the café! I so want to get a cinnamon roll like last time!" Nick's eyes lit up in anticipation of the sweet treat he knew that he would receive in the near future. His father laughed again, turning around to start the ignition of the car.

"You always get those."

"Well I like them!"

"That's a good reason." Nick's father muttered sarcastically, the sarcasm lost on his offspring. He shifted the car into gear, adjusting the mirrors so that he could clearly see anything behind their vehicle. The middle-aged man glanced at the reflection of his passenger in the back seat of the car, calling out,

"Is your seat belt on?"

"Yep, like always." Nick announced proudly.

"Good boy." The bright front lights of their car flickered on as Nick's father twisted in his seat, putting the machine in reverse.

"Anyways, I think we worked hard tonight. Hard workers deserve to have treats, don't you think?"

"Yes, but still…," Nick pondered, tracing a simple pattern against the window pane as they slowly pulled out from their parking spot.
"I wish we could have finished the lyrics to our song. Do you think it'll be ready in time, Daddy?" The father paused, catching the tone of doubt in his son's soft voice.

"I'm sure it will be Nicky. I'm planning for it to be our best song yet!" At this, Nick looked up in alarm, worry filtering through his mind at not being able to live up to his father's expectations. Their car reached the limits of the parking lot. The man turned on the blinker, getting into the right lane as he waited for the light to change so that they could continue their drive. He noticed his son's distress and tried to change the subject from the focus upon their dilemma.

"Don't worry about it Nick." He stepped lightly upon the gas break as he made a right turn. The Chevron swerved and soon found itself repositioned in the center lane of the road. Once he was comfortable with the location of the arrow on their speed gauge, the man shrugged his shoulders as he continued,

"Besides, you have me to help out so you shouldn't worry about anything! It'll be great Nicky! All you have to worry about is wondering what you're gonna get for Christmas, alright?"

"Alright," Nick sighed in defeat, his eyes downcast as he studied the leather seats of their car's interior. Mr. Jonas frowned.

"Aw…come on Nick. Smile for me." He paused, only to ask in an almost-pleading tone,

"Please?" Nick tilted his head, glancing up at his father from a downward angle. His dark brown curls fell to the side of his heart-shaped face; a face that still consisted of baby fat that came with early childhood. He opened his lips, revealing a row of white teeth that were set in the position of an over exaggerated smile.

"Good enough for me!" Mr. Jonas chuckled, turning his attention back to the asphalt-covered road. After about five minutes of waiting, the wheels of their car slowly rolled to a stop in a different parking space in between a rugged van and a yellow truck. Mr. Jonas twisted the keys in the ignition slot, killing the engine in a quick motion. He pulled them out and shoved them into the left pocket of his blue jeans.

"Alright, we're here! Get out and I'll meet you on the other side of the car, okay?" Nick nodded, unfastening his seat belt swiftly. He tugged on the metal door handle to exit on the right side of the vehicle. He slipped out, straightening his rumpled clothes as he brushed off particles of snow that were descending upon his jacket.

"Over here Nick!" His father called. Nick hurriedly scrambled to meet him, linking arms with his dad as they quickly walked to the door. Mr. Jonas grasped the handle, ushering his son into the warm room.

"Now that that's settled, let's go get in line!"