Sunday, December 14, 2008

The thing you don't learn growing up in Florida is how the first snow of the winter changes everything for as long as it lasts. It softens and dampens and muffles, smooths out all of the edges, on streets and sidewalks and inside heads.

I walked up to the bar in it last night, surrounded by the soft rattle of the snow falling, faulty hat curled inside my purse, happily listening to sad songs about love and feeling only the gentle brush of snowflakes on my head. The streets were mostly empty but all of the windows glowed, and in the park snowball fights were won and lost in minutes.

Everything is iced over now, promising a treacherous walk to the office over unsalted sidewalks. This week is vowing to be desperately cold and mostly dry, and getting out of bed will likely be nearly impossible. But that first snowfall was pretty close to perfect.

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