I immediately associate this word with my childhood.
The last time I saw snow was when I was eight years old, before my family left our home in New York, to a tropical climate, for the promise of a life that never materialized. To this day, I associate humid weather with stagnation and torment.
But thinking back to then, when seasons made me intensely aware of cycles and the pleasant movement of time, I think of coats thick as clouds and tall boots a few sizes too large that I quickly grew to fill. We were poor and walked everywhere, miles, even in the snow. No car. I never minded. It didn't even occur to me to mind. Innocence. Happiness. I think of how the chill outside made me feel warmer inside.
I saw more than others on those walks, life moves at a slower pace but thoughts do not. We passed countless yards and homes of people I never knew, who firmly liv