kiwords

It’s snowing right now, sifting down over the four inches of snow that have fallen since about 1 this afternoon. They expect somewhere between 6 and 10 inches by morning. I have a confession to make.
I kind of like it, all this snow.
There is a breed of people (you know who you are) who live here in Colorado, who looooooove the snow. When the weather forecast calls for 5 or more inches, they happily talk about it standing in line at the grocery store. These people grin up at the clouds when they see the first snowflakes. Blizzards make them giddy. These are the people with the bumper stickers that proclaim, “Colorado Native.”
I am not a Colorado native. I’m not a native of anywhere, really. I was born in Chicago, but we moved away when I was just a toddler. Since then I’ve lived in places like Texas, Mexico, New Mexico, and New Zealand. Not a lotta snow in any of those places. Well, we got a bit in parts of New Mexico, but not that much. I moved here about…what…eleven years ago. It was August when I came to Denver, and I had come from Las Cruces, which is in southern New Mexico. I went from 110 degree days to balmy 70’s. I was freezing. I went down to Las Cruces to see my friends over Halloween that year and I remember the morning after I got back to Denver. I was walking to my car, and a snowflake lazily drifted past my eyes, right down into my cleavage. I watched it, thinking, “What the hell am I doing here? Yesterday I was wearing shorts.” I spent the rest of the day scowling out the window at the snow.
I am not as insane as all those Colorado natives. But I do have to admit a certain growing affinity for the stuff. As the impressive dark clouds rolled in this morning, I watched them and quietly wondered just how much snow they’d leave. It was…kind of exciting.
See, here in Colorado we don’t have to live with the snow for weeks. Heck, it usually doesn’t stay for days, even. Just two days ago I was standing in a store and a woman came in wearing sandals. I looked at her and thought, “It’s December, woman!” But the truth is it wasn’t too cold for sandals. And sometime in the next week there will be a 60 degree day. All these dramatic weather swings leave one with a sense of anticipation. What’s next? Five feet of snow, like the blizzard of last March? Or a 75 degree Christmas?
I went outside tonight to shovel the driveway with Dad. Tre was playing out there with us, tossing snowballs at us and asking us to throw shovelfuls of snow at him. We obliged. Eventually the driveway was clear (for a few minutes…you should see it now), and Dad and I turned to go inside. Tre begged to stay out for a while in the snow. I said ok, but he had to play in the back. It was, after all, nearly eight p.m. and DARK out there. He agreed, so I went over to the gate to let him into the back yard. As I swung it open, Tre stood silent for a moment, staring through the open gate. “Now I enter Snow World,” he breathed. Then he charged in, and spent the next half hour romping in the snow. In the dark. Alone. He’d still be out there if I hadn’t made him come in and go to bed.
Now THAT is a Colorado native.