Last night it snowed, nothing appreciable, just a light cover on the lawn and the driveway. All of it is melting. On the deck, the dogs’ paws pressed right down to the wood through the wet snow when they first went outside. I was surprised. I thought the snow was more substantial. The snow will be gone from there soon. I have no reason to leave the house so the snow on the car will be left to Mother Nature’s devices.

I got to thinking about the snow as I watched it falling last night. When I was a kid, I could watch out the picture window at the snow as it fell. My favorite time to watch was at night when the falling snow was lit by the street lamp on the corner below my house. I remember when the wind was so strong the snow was whipped sideways.

I think snow is the most hopeful weather. When I was a kid, I remember how on snowy mornings we’d all be waiting and hoping to hear the no school alarm from the fire station. When we did, we’d settle back in front of the TV and laze a bit. In the afternoon, I’d get dressed in layers, slip my boot tops over the bottom of my ski pants, put on a sweater under my jacket, wear a knit hat stretched enough to cover my ears and on my hands, mittens, sometimes they even matched, and I’d go outside.

The snow looked magical. I could see the magic, and I could feel the magic. No footprints in front of us marred the surface twinkling in the sun. We would be the first. The snow covered the trees, the bushes and the cars but left their shapes sharp enough to notice. We’d run and jump in the snow. We’d leave snow angels. We’d toss snow balls, maybe go sledding or maybe build a fort. The possibilities seemed endless, hopeful, even joyful. That is what I first remember about the snow. We stayed outside until our cheeks were red raw from the cold. My mother made us hot chocolate. I let the steam warm my face and the cup warm my hands. I was exhausted, not grumpy exhausted but happily exhausted from a day in the snow.

As soon as the snow started, I’d move to the picture window so I could keep track of the snow, to how much was falling. My fingers were crossed. I was wishing and hoping. I did every time it snowed. I wished for more, never less.

Last night I checked the snow under the back light as it was falling. I wanted to keep track of how much. I even heard the plow. I have almost the same memories from when I was a kid when I loved everything about snow starting from the light shining on the snowflakes. The more there was of it, the more hopeful we were. I watched last night. This morning, not so much snow on the ground.