Walking to work in the snow.

Dear Snow,

I am writing to inform you that our relationship has changed. When we were kids I always trusted your gentle flakes. You’d cancel school and gather all my friends to play. Sometimes you’d come for just a minute, to remind me of your beauty and purity, and when you really came for a visit, you’d stay at least one day, but lately I’ve noticed you’ve changed.

This year each time you come, you disappoint me. The first time you came it was like you were taunting me. I walked with you to work that evening and then you just up and left. I figured you’d be back for some more quality time later on, so I didn’t mind cleaning up after you the next morning. The second time you came was worse. Your flakes falling heavy on the wet ground, quickly turning to brown dirty mud. Why’d you even bother? I didn’t even try to hope for a day off from work, playing with you. But this last time was the worst. You were just so darn cold. Last night when you showed up, I didn’t even bother going out. I didn’t bother looking at you. The way you’ve been taunting, I didn’t want to see you, but you stayed outside my door. You called my friends out into your beauty and so I gave in to you once again.

You were so enticing sitting on the trees, covering the dirty ground with your brilliant white, sparkling surface. Last night it was like we were kids again. I was bundled in warmth with you and my friends, frolicking in the freedom you’d created. Last night I left you at the door trusting I’d see your gentle flakes in the morning. Trusting you’d do like old times and get me a day off to play with you, but you were so very rude. Leaving in the middle of the night like that. Leaving me with a mess to shovel up in the morning. Cold, dirty, slush for me to tromp through. I’m loosing faith.

If you come again, don’t let me down. You must make your visit longer. Give me at least one day of real, quality snow time, because my trust in you is wavering.

Sincerely,

Sara