Snow

I can’t pin down my first memory of snow. In my memories of my hometown it is always snowing, or at least when there isn’t a reason for it not to.

Nothing can be bad when it snows, especially around December. It doesn’t matter how awful the snow gets, how hard or windy or icy, nothing is truly bad if there’s snow on the ground.

My feet can be soaked to the bone from shoes so old they’re more more fabric than leather, my back could ache like hell from the four feet moved away from my sidewalk, my neighbor’s sidewalk, and their neighbor’s sidewalk, and my hands could be so cold that I can’t remember them being warm, but still I persist in my beliefs.

Nothing can be bad when it snows.