It’s snowing again. It’s March.
When did I become this cynical?
I keep trying to remember the first time I ever saw snow. I’m sure I can’t, but the first time I can remember it was when I was about 4 years old. It was sometime near Christmas, and my grandmother was visiting and I came downstairs from my afternoon nap and she was sitting in the dining room, painting a cabinet door. My parents had decided to remodel the kitchen and the cabinet doors looked like shutters. Grandma spend hours painting each slat with white glossy paint, the soothing sounds of her brushstrokes accompanied by the tinkle of Christmas music playing elsewhere in the house.
She looked up from her work to see me, bleary eyed and confused, and smiled, saying, “It snowed while you were asleep.” Sure enough, in the last hazy remnants of the day I could see a thick layer of white covering the yard, trees, mailboxes, everything in my sight. There was something personal about this snow that fell while I slept. In my 4-year-old mind, this was a present just for me, a reward for going to sleep and a reminder that magic exists in the world.
I lost that somewhere, but it’s nice to be reminded. Sometimes, the world really is magical. Take a look at this video of a little girl discovering rain for the first time, and you’ll see what I mean.