In the town I grew up in, school would be cancelled when it snowed. Any amount of snow was sufficient, from one flake to ten. The first time I ever saw snow was a moment I’ll never forget, although there was hardly anything memorable about it.
We were sitting in our elementary school class, when suddenly the teacher jumped up from her chair. She gathered us all up and had us run outside as quickly as possible. “It’s snowing!” she shouted.
By the time we made it outside, the playground was full of children from every grade level, excitedly running around. The only problem was, was that none of us could see the snow. Within a few minutes, silence spread across the playground as we all stopped and sadly gazed at the sky above.
All of a sudden the silence was broken, as the teachers began herding us into a big group. In a rush, they handed out a piece of black construction paper to each of the children.
“Hold your paper out and you will be able to see the snow!” the teachers yelled to us.
As requested, we held out our black paper with steady hands and patiently waited to see what would happen.
Suddenly, there it was! A snowflake landed on my paper! I saw it clearly, for a brief moment. Then it was gone, leaving a tiny wet spot in its place. It was the only one, but it sure was fascinating for a little girl who had never seen snow before.
A few minutes later school was cancelled, and we all happily went home to enjoy what ended up being a bright and sunny afternoon.
Now I live in a place where it’s said to snow all the time, but rarely does anymore. Perhaps this year it will dump on us, and maybe I’ll even get a chance to build my first snowman.
Of course I’ll have my son join me, as that would probably look more natural to the neighbors than watching a woman in her 30’s running around sticking carrots in the snow.