Snow in the Time of Cholera

That there's pa.

Come November, Jillian and I would descend the stairs faster than if we were pushed, which we were from time to time, usually by Bobby, that jerk. Meanwhile, William and Lucah were already in the kitchen, getting ready for work at the factory. Little Grace and Vicky would still be upstairs fast asleep. Zachary, Caleb and Noah would already be outside, probably doing something involving tackling. And there's no doubt Daniel wished he could be there with us, but apparently they're pretty strict about leaving base when there's wartime missions on multiple fronts. Yeah, growing up in a house with eleven kids wasn't easy - it was incredible.

And when we'd wake to see the ground completely covered in white, we knew what kind of revelry was in store. Caleb would come running in, ruler in hand, and breathlessly announce the tally. "We're over a foot!" And with that, he'd dart right back out as though he'd better take another reading in case it was higher. As Jillian and I were twins, we seemed to do everything together, mostly by happenstance. We never said "let's eat breakfast together", we'd just find ourselves spoon-deep in porridge only to look up and see one another. Mom forced us to consume something before spending the entire day outside. We were all home-schooled, so "snow days" were by Mom's decree. Suffice to say the kids had some influence; the word "please" abounded.

Time to suit up. In kid time, this took thirteen years. We put on fifty-five layers, even so, mom insisted we were under-dressed and going to freeze to death. I don't recall that ever happening. Once the mittens and wool cap were neatly in place, there was only one thing left to do - sprint at top-speed through the door, dive with reckless abandon and immerse ourselves in nature's best kind of precipitate.

We didn't even realize we were forming the fondest and firmest memories of our lifetime.

Hang tight. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait - sheeeit. Nevermind. That wasn't me. That was a movie I saw on Bravo. Not that I watch Bravo. I think I was flipping - no, what it was was, I turned the TV on, I assumed it was HBO. It was like, twenty minutes until a commercial came on. Seriously, I'm more of an ESPN guy. Or ESPN 2. FX. I basically never watch Bravo.

But the sentiment's the same. Didn't it used to snow a lot back in the day? You know, 1985 through 1996? Am I wrong about this? I could definitely be wrong about this - heck, one time I mistook my entire childhood for a movie that I saw on Bravo! Not that I watch Bravo. No, I'm pretty certain I'm right - it used to snow. It was...white. I want to say it felt like either cotton balls or maybe it was really hard like golf balls. That part isn't coming back to me. And it was usually...waist-high. Is that right? No wait, it was foot-high. Or maybe it was all under foot, like walking on a giant piece of paper. Which is a great example, because paper's white.

Hang on - did it used to snow? I know it doesn't anymore, that part's obvious. It hasn't snow-snowed - and you know what I'm talking about - since, I don't know, '02. That's a long time without snow-snow. What gives? My gut reaction is to blame Bush, but it would be giving him too much credit to pretend he controls the ongoings of the upper atmosphere. Is it something I did? Does karma exist? Is there a God? Where does outer-space end?

It's not exactly where-did-I-lose-my-glassesesque, but I'm just curious as the dickens over here. Where the frick is the snow?! Allegedly it happens in other parts of the country, but here in the location where johnatron magic happens, zilch. And I'm talking like nil; nada. From my perspective, the word snow is nine-tenths "no", one-tenth "sw", which stands for so what when it comes to God's opinion of snow.

Not sure what that last sentence was all about. What can I say, I'm frazzled.

But there's a silver lining. It's called hope. Snow still exists - in our hearts. In our memories. And in our faith that one precious day, we'll wake to find the ground white. We'll have our porridge, we'll fifty-five-layer up, and we'll dive into that ish like Louganis off the springboard. Plus, the 36-hour forecast says 90% chance for tomorrow. Ninety percent. Round that bad boy up to a hundred - that's a guarantee, baby.

It will snow again. But we have to keep hope alive. It's what Jillian would have wanted. I think she got cholera towards the end of the movie.

Huh, look at that. I got a Louganis reference in there. Don't see them much. Did you know he was gay?