Four days ago we had our first snows of the season. There was no accumulation and the day after the snow it was 65 degrees. My niece, visiting from India, was excited. She wanted to play in it, take pictures, make snow angels. I wanted to look at it from inside and admire its prettiness while wishing it would melt away soon.
How long ago was it that I saw my first snowfall? I stood out among the swirling flakes and stuck out of tongue. I swallowed coldness.
Something has happened to me through the years? Now snow makes me think of slushy roads, anti-lock brakes, dreading taking the dog out to do her business when it's 20 below zero and visibility is nil, wondering if the snow removal guy we hired will arrive on time enough to plough us out...
But then, on some Saturday evenings, when I know there is no work the next day, I still want to sneak out, stand arms akimbo and swallow the cold. There are days I still welcome the sensation as the cold pinches out the color in my cheeks and makes my nose turn red.
This winter I want to worry less about mundane things and try to recapture the magic of falling snow. I don't know if I will, once the winter months start accumulating and there seems to be no end in sight.