I wish we could let it snow. But it just doesn't. At least not in Virginia.
For a girl who grew up in Liverpool, New York, you'd think I'd had my fill of snow. And truth is, I have. At least the 10 foot drift snows. The get soaked down to your frostbitten toes snow. The do your homework by candlelight because there's been no power all day snow. The have to drink powdered milk because no one can get to the grocery store to buy real milk snow.
But I'm still nostalgic for the hot cocoa and mashmallow snow. The mom, can I have the car keys to pick up all my friends to go sledding snow. The Mr. Wells is driving his snowmobile to the grocery store, do you need anything snow. The cool, our fort is taller than the car snow. The let's flood the back yard to make an ice skating rink snow.
After growning up and out of New York, we spent a few years in Houston (actually had one brief snowfall in three years there.) Then off to Los Angeles. Again, I recall one afternoon, driving around while house hunting, when there were flurries in the valley. And then here to Virginia. At least here, we have the possibility of snow. And we have had a few decent snowfalls over the past 16 years. They don't last. And that's fine. In reality, I don't want that much.
What I want is some flurries on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. I want a snow day once a winter. I want to wake up with Kyle at 5:30 and turn on the news, and see that school is cancelled and see that grin spread across his face. I want hot cocoa, cozy sweaters, maybe a fire in the fireplace. I want enough snow to make some snow angels, make a snow man, make some snow balls and make some snow memories.
And, living in Virginia, that will be enough.