Wonderland Snow

On Wednesday, he stood at the back door letting the cold air flow in around him.  When I asked him what he was doing he told me that it smelled like snow was coming.  I stood beside him and took a deep breath.  He was right.  The air smelled like snow.  I asked him when he thought it would get here.  He said he thought it would be late the next night.  It's been almost two years since snow was in the air.

It rained sheets all day on Thursday.  Heavy, dark rain.  Cold and biting, it ran down the sleeves of my rain coat into my pockets.  When I got home I asked him if he still thought it would snow.  In a disappointed voice he said yes, but admitted that it wouldn't stick.  The rain was cold but the ground too damp.  He went to bed soul heavy.  He needs the snow as much as I do.

I had some late night work, so I left the blinds open and watched.  Around 10:30 it started.  Big, white squares.  I woke him gently so that he could see it.  I tried to wake the girls as well, but they were far away in Neverland or Wonderland or Oz, or some other place, far away in the imaginary depths of dreams.  So we left them to dream of snow while we let the real flakes fall on our heads until we had hair that was fairy white.
 

He walked slowly around the yard like an old man with heavy steps.  Visible breath the only clear sign of a face beneath his hood.  Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was smiling.  Face upturned I let the coldness wash over me with the cleansing purity that only snow can bring.  Eventually our fingers were numb and our smiles frozen in place, so we met back in the doorway, watching it fall until it stopped.

Thirty minutes and it was gone.  A few mounds of frozen white remained as witness to our late night meditation.  We both knew that by morning little would remain.  We closed the door wondering if it had all been a dream.  Were we too in Wonderland?

As he started back up the stairs to bed he turned and said, if it doesn't snow here this year, let's move.  Alright, son.  And why not?  People leave for lesser reasons than snow.