Snow has always been a happy thing for me. And it's important and rare enough that when it snows, you get together with the neighbors and go to the forest where the snow is untouched, and throw snowballs and each other, and take pictures. In those pictures, your car is a white Renault. If you're a little older and it snows on a school day, you get together with some friends and cut school. You hit the forest again. This time, maybe not exactly to throw snowballs at each other but to go on a journey, an adventure. To feel independent but at the same time, part of a group. Part of an independent and adventurous group.

Boston has given me some snow, but not enough to make me feel the same joy I had felt in those years. Maybe it's because it's not a rare thing but something that just naturally happens when you live in a colder climate. Something else has happened, though. Part of me started to like the cold. That part of me got to like the challenge of surviving in really low temperatures. This is, of course, with a job I do from home and with a husband that drives me everywhere. But you know how sometimes you get a burst of excitement and joy? That you're capable, that you're alive, that you can make it anywhere? That's how I feel on the infrequent occasion that I'm out and about. Fancy that.


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