As I looked out at the snow today I remembered snows from my childhood. In my youth-some years back-when they called for snow- it snowed. Now it's hit and miss, but one thing's not changed, kids still look forward to being out of school when it snows.
I remember once staying up until 3:30 in the morning just to be sure it snowed. Later, after I slept some, my brother and I were bundled up by mom, and went outside looking like abominable snowmen. We could barely move but stayed out until our eyes and noses were watering and we could hardly feel our faces anymore.
Then we knew it was time to go in. We'd come in and drip water everywhere, take a break, and get warm, eat a hurried meal, and then out we'd go again.
In the years since my youth- I no longer look at snow that way. It's no longer pretty- but a danger- when ice and snow combine. My daughter now looks at the snow with wondrous eyes the way I once had. I now see -only her as pretty- in her purple Cabela's snowsuit-my walking purple grape-laughing gaily as she rolls in the snow.
So will snow ever hold that excitement for me again as it did in my childhood? Probably not. Will it remain that way for my daughter? Yes, until she grows up and see the dangers that we never see through the eyes of a child. Do I ever wish I was that young again- so that snow could once more hold that fascination for me? Yes. But now I can only do this through the eyes of my child, whose imagination is not tainted by having grown up, for not having the experiences of heading-with no control-towards another car.
So I'll open my heart and enjoy the snow through the eyes of my child. And in this way I'll wait with baited breath as the first few snow flakes fall down from the sky.