Snow, I want snow ... It’s Christmas
Ilike snow. I’m at an age when snow is not glorified by people of my years. The thing is, being “normal” for my age isn’t happening. In just about everything I read or hear someone my age is classified as “elderly.”
Elderly?? Maybe I am elderly, ancient, aged, whatever. Call me what you will ... ugly old bat ... I don’t care.
I like snow. I love it at Christmas. When my dad, an Air Force officer, was overseas getting us a place to live, my mom, sister and I stayed with our Grandma and Grandpa Colligan in New York City. We had a white Christmas that year, my first white Christmas, and it was glorious. We built snowmen, made snow angels and had snowball fights. By that time my grandparents had bought a house in Levitown on Long Island, the first sub division in the United States.
When we left for Morocco in my grandfather’s Kaiser Manhattan, it was snowing to beat the band. My Christmas doll was in my arms as we made our way to the big ship that would take us away to a distant land that I loved almost instantly. But more than anything, I remember seeing the big ship as the snow drifted down on its decks and left white crystals as it settled.
When we lived in Kansas, snow at Christmas was pretty much a given. With climate change it might not be that way anymore, but one year we had three feet of snow that stuck around from October to April. At first, we kids were concerned that Santa might not be able to make it with all the snow, but he managed quite well. Our parents assured us he would be fine. Rudolph would lead the way. And he did.
After Daddy retired from the Air Force at 37 he brought his family back to his old stomping ground of East Tennessee. Snow did not generally arrive until after the new year, but one year that changed. It started snowing Christmas Eve afternoon and continued all night. By the time it stopped almost a foot of snow had fallen and the world was pristine white.
This was the type of snow that clung to everything from tiny branches on the trees to wire fences, with each strand covered. It presented a lacy appearance and was beautiful. My siblings and I made the first footprints in it on Christmas Day. We played and reveled in it.
Mom and Dad also came outside and we built all kinds of snow people and critters. Our dog, Astro, was in hog heaven. He jumped around in this magical white stuff and wallowed in it like he was a puppy. That Christmas day marks one of my most wonderful Christmas memories.
When I grew up and graduated from college, my life brought me to Georgia. I wasn’t planning to stay. Teaching for a year was what I thought would happen; then I’d move back to Tennessee to resume my teaching career. Or maybe I would move to New York City.
Plans have a way of changing. Little did I know that a young man with curly black hair and black eyes was waiting for me. He didn’t know that I was coming to him nor did I know, but it happened. We met, fell hard for each other and wed quickly ... three months later. In the ensuing years, we had four children. I remember the children always hoping for snow at Christmas.
Our youngest was a humdinger. He became upset one day over something. I honestly think it was when I told him that it wasn’t going to snow at Christmas. He stormed outside, this little bitty kid of five and said back to me, “I’ll bet Santa Plaus (he couldn’t say “Claus”) doesn’t even have a sled with eight tiny reindeers. He just drives by the house in an old pick up truck and throws the presents in the front yard. You and Daddy go get them and put them under the tree yourselfs!”
I laughed. He didn’t hear me, but that’s one of my fondest Christmas memories.
Another happened in 2010. My dad passed away on Dec. 2 of that year. It was a sad time. All our kids were grown and we had a grandson. Late on Christmas Eve, it actually started snowing. It continued to snow into Christmas Day. It was lovely.
All our children came home that day. Heather, our oldest, with husband and child in tow, told me she cried with happiness all the way down Pine Chapel Road. It was a glorious Christmas that year.
I thanked my dad. He knew how much I love snow. Christmas snow is magical ... truly.