Let It Snow

I've always liked winter and snow. The crisp, cold air makes me feel alive. I like the way a fresh snowfall transforms the world. I like the potential for snow days. I love walking in the snow. I don't even mind shoveling (most of the time). Late last night it was snowing and blowing, and when I was turning off the electric candles in the windows, I paused for a minute to watch. Suddenly, I was back in time, standing in my parents' living room on Neshannock Avenue in New Wilmington. I was peering out the window, watching a shadowy figure make his way through the blowing and drifting snow as he walked up the hill toward the only stoplight in town. I watched until he turned left onto Market Street and disappeared from view. The shadowy figure was Steve, heading back to Hillside dormitory through the deserted, snowy streets. We'd only been dating a couple of months, but I was head over heels in love. As I watched him go, I was thinking of the lyrics to a familiar song I'd heard earlier in the day, probably from a scratchy old record on Mom and Dad's cabinet stereo: "When we finally kiss good night, how I'll hate going out in the storm, but if you really hold me tight, all the way home I'll be warm." I felt shivery and happy inside, and I don't remember for sure, but I probably fell asleep that night dreaming about that boy and wondering how it was all going to turn out. I think of that night every time I hear "Let It Snow," and now, thirty-six years later, I know how it all turned out: I'm still head over heels in love with that boy, and I still love snow.