Every time Jillian has wanted snow since Kim’s passing, she says a little prayer asking her to ask God for her and, believe it or not: she gets her snow! The first time was Christmas day. Today was another (she wanted a snow day so that she didn’t have to attend her online classes…). True to form, we got a pretty good dose of snow last night – somewhere between six and eight inches, is my guess, but the drifts made it hard to tell precisely.
This was similar to the amount of snow we got 30 years ago, almost to the day, right after Kim and I had moved into this house. It was so much snow back then that Ford did the rare thing and told people to stay home!
I had just adopted Rocky, our first dog, from the shelter the weekend before. I went out to dig the driveway and walk out of the drifting snow and, a little while later, Kim came out with Rocky to throw snowballs at me, and then we played with the dog. He would chase snowballs thrown and then try to find them after they had merged with the snow on the ground. I remember it as having been a very fun, but bitingly cold time.
How young we were then! What a sweet, sweet memory. Both Kim and Rocky are gone, of course. They only romp in the snow in my memory. A happy memory.
Funny how even those happy memories can be tinged with pain.