A life in seasons

I remember the first time I saw snow. I remember watching snowflakes as they danced daintily, as they waltzed through my window. I remember the light in my eyes—my wide-eyed wonder. I remember snowflakes falling softly and melting in my hand. I remember the first time I saw snow—the same time my son first saw snow—when he was only three, and I, past thirty. I grew up with sun and rain, with hot,…