My mom recently sorted out all the remnants of the days when you had to print the whole role of film to get the one picture worth keeping. Over the years the best photos were picked over for frames, albums, and other display pieces.
These are the left-overs. But not the throw-away left overs. The ones that tell the story of the real family behind the Christmas card photos.
The first time I saw snow was in 1986 in San Antonio. It lightly dusted the front lawn and was gone by noon.
The first time I saw SNOW! was in 1990 in Steamboat Springs, CO.
We had driven through the night to get to our friends’ ski lodge. I went to sleep in the desert, and woke up to mounds of fluffy, puffy, soft angel snow all around.
When we stopped at a gas station where substantial snow drifts were mere feet from the car, my mom let me get out to see. Envisioning a cloud like experience of tossing marshmallow flavored snow all around me – no doubt inspired by cartoons, which do not have feelings- I threw myself face first into a snow drift. Like a cartoon.
I was wearing a sweatsuit and Keds.
This would be my first major reckoning of fantasy and reality.
It. stung. so. bad.
In this picture I am pausing my massive fit long enough to smile for the photo.