The first time I saw snow was a week after landing in the US when I was 11 years old, visiting my dad's friends in Alamogordo, New Mexico. The next time was when we moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming (5 years) and after that when I moved to Chicago (almost 3 years). The first blanket is always so incredibly visually arresting whether the sun is hitting it or the street lamps.
Because it is very dry in Wyoming, the snow is mostly powder flying along the plains without anything to really break it except houses and buildings. In Chicago, I learned what bitter cold really meant especially when I worked downtown and would feel the freezing wind coming off Lake Michigan. I've shoveled it, fallen in it, walked in it, driven in it, and been afraid in it. It has been about 13 years since I've lived in snow, but for some reason I am wanting it now. I expressed my craving for it today to a few people who thought it odd of me, but they are not quite surprised...at the odd part.
I was quietly busy all day which belied the mental storm in my head. My imagination would take me to a space where I could almost touch, taste and feel snow. The feeling was so powerful that I shivered at my desk for several moments at a time. I have no answers nor do I have any questions about it. The feeling of wanting to be in it is still there as I type this. Rushed home and took care of Cabal before hurrying onto this blog entry. Realized that since early September I have been thinking about it: The end of this entry and in the poem An Autumn Thought. Hoping that writing about it will exorcise the yearning for it which couldn't be ignored today.
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