Snowy Nostalgia

The snow fell in a layer thin enough for my footprints to reveal the concrete beneath each step. It lifted in waves when the wind skimmed the ground, like tall grass in an open field. I looked up at the fading blue sky, then down at my gloved hands gripping the strap of my backpack. The snowflakes dotted the yellow-tinted neighborhood. I could hear the traveling giggles of children in the distance, running through unbroken white, satisfied as their boots carved the surface. Ah, if only I could go back. 

In my foggy memory, people trampled the snow, turning it into a field of blue-shadowed ridges. The smooth patches shrank as people’s footprints bit into them. It was always a question of whether we should leave the snow be or not. Will more fall? Or is this the last of the season? I savored the pure white cover, letting it lie flat without holes. But by morning, when I woke up, I saw it had quietly melted into the soil anyway, leaving a moist field of grass and chirping birds. Ah, I guess I should have just played. 

I refocused ahead and smiled when one of the children made eye contact with me. She asked me to come over. I stepped off the sidewalk and into the park. “Watch this!” She lay back into the snow and waved her arms through it. “You do it too! Do it too!” 

“Me?” I chuckled and looked down at the soft snow around me. She giggled as she continued to wave her arms. I sighed and put my bag down. With my face up to the sky, I pushed away at a white patch of snow and made a big snow angel. Ah, it's never too late.