This Christmas I'm grateful that it was a white Christmas. My heart sings praises at the sight of a fresh blanket of snow. It captures me for a brief moment, and all seems right in the world. Even when my tires are spinning instead of gripping and it takes 2 or 3 tries to get up my rediculously steep driveway, I'm still smiling on the inside because all is snowy and white.
Next time you find one of those perfectly formed snowflakes that has landed on your sleeve, stare at it for a second and try to remember how amazed you were the first time you realized that snowflakes really do look like those paper creations you cut out in elementary school. I'm back in Kindergarten every time it snows.
Snow makes me happy. It just does. And when the rest of the world is bah-humbugging when it snows on Easter, I'll be dreaming of a white Memorial Day, just like the ones I used to know.