Tonight we stepped out into the steady fall of the first snow we've seen this season. I hurried to rush a shocked and crying Weston to the relative warmth of his carseat. I cursed the snow for covering my car in ice and drenching my sweats and flip flopped feet (since these feet don't fit in regular shoes anymore) in drippy slushiness. I surrendered my coat to a weeping Weston and turned to hustle Claire inside beside him.
She had stayed behind. Not in a hurry. She stared up, resting her head back as far as it goes. Watched the blurry flakes come rushing down at her. Still.
And so I looked up too. And remembered, for a second, the wonder. Of snow.
