Snow

There's something melancholic about snow when it falls on the city. Its presence creates immediate wonder and fascination, stirring children out of their homes and into tundra gear as quickly as their feet can carry them. The known world is gone, covered deep under a new layer of adventure. Lawns, streets and trees that never garner more than a moment's notice suddenly seem alive with the mystery and intrigue of an unfamiliar city or a new love. This is a joy unparalleled by any other form of weather, yet it's also unlike any other form of happiness we experience as children. In this part of the world, every one of us is acutely aware that the object of our excitement will quickly be retreating to the gutters and storm drains, revealing the world as we know it - yet somehow it seems a little less special an slightly duller than our memory holds. Sure, some may remain piled in parking lots and side streets for a few weeks, but those filthy, skeletal remains will pay no homage to their ancestors. So our exploits and shenanigans proceed with haste and a fear of stepping inside the house even for a moment. Anxiously we wonder, "Could this could be the last good trip down the hill?" and fret, "What if it's gone before I can get back out to it?" In a way, the snow teaches us when we're still children how to make the most of our time with a deteriorating loved one, how to cherish each moment and prolong the magic, even as we see the fatal signs: Blades of grass poking their heads above the fray in the yard. The distant thunder of wet snow falling from the boughs of far off trees. Wet shoes as we trudge back up the hill for another run. These things serve as warning signs that change is near. A good thing is drawing to its conclusion, and now we must prepare to return to life as we know it, yet with a sense that something is missing now. And lo, when the snow falls again, we're somehow both eager and apprehensive simultaneously - dreaming of the fun to be had, but carefully aware that it will too soon be snatched away.