I remember the days I used to wake up to a world transformed into a white soft fluffy wonder place. Snug in my bed I would glance over to my window to see everything transformed from a gray barren land to a new world of possibilities. I would turn on my radio in hopes that school would be canceled so I could go outside to play. Once they announced my school, I would race to finish breakfast and pack my winter clothes on and head outside.

The snow would be so perfectly serene, untouched by any life until I plunged my feet into the drifts and declare my territory. With each step my feet would become heavier until I gave in and plopped onto my back and looked up to the sky. With any luck snow would still be drifting from above. Many a times, even in my childhood, I would lay there and ponder life. I remember often thinking, that laying there with snow dancing around, that this was the way I would want to die. Slowly, calmly floating away to a better place. I guess I was somewhat of a morbid child, even then.

Typically I was not a very imaginative child, but for some reason a new snowfall always seemed to bring me a gift of creativity. Living in Florida now I miss those days mixed with seasons and childhood. I am sad my kids will not experience waking up to a school snow day and all the excitement that brings. Of course, I don’t miss the cold, shoveling, ice scrapping, and constant bundling. But it seems for a few days every year the entire area would come to a halt. Families would stay home together and play, life would become simpler and less hectic. Somehow, talking with my kids over a cup of hot chocolate on a 80 degree rainy day here just doesn’t seem to have the same coziness.

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