I’m disappointed. The weather forecasters predicted snow for last night. They were so sure we would get at least an inch or more that many schools already scheduled delayed openings for this morning, my husband’s college included. I must have gotten up at least four times in the middle of the night to look out the window, but not a flake fell in my neighborhood. That’s the price I pay for living on the coast. I’ll bet my brother, living two hours inland from me, got some snow, and he’ll rub it in by showing me pictures and video from his iPad. I’ll pay him back on a hot summer day when I tell him I’m going to the beach. But right now he’s winning.
When we moved to San Antonio, snow was one of the things I missed. In the twenty-nine years we lived there, other than a light dusting one day, it snowed only once, and that was a freak snowstorm that dumped fifteen inches on the city. I think it melted the next day, but we sure enjoyed the fluffy white stuff when it was coming down. My husband has a rare picture in his office of the Alamo blanketed in white.
Since I grew up in Connecticut, I had my share of snow days. Snuggled beneath my Hudson Bay striped wool blanket, shrouded in darkness, I could hear my mother tiptoe into the room and come to the edge of the bed. “Snow day. No school today.” How delicious to stay hunkered down in the warmth instead of dragging myself out of bed into the chilly dawn room to dress for school. When we finally emerged from our cocoons, my mother would have hot cocoa and a steaming bowl of Maypo (an old brand of maple oatmeal) waiting for us. Then we’d pile on the coats, boots, hats and mittens and head outside into the white wonderland.
My brother and I once made an igloo during a particularly heavy snowfall. I still remember climbing inside and being amazed that it really was warmer inside than I thought it would be. My children, born in the Northeast but raised in Texas, never got to experience this except that one time. Poor, deprived children.
And poor, deprived hubby. His parting words, as he headed out into the icy air for his drive to work, were, “This should have been a snow day.”