Let it snow!

Let it snow!


"Yes, sir...I understand...for the good of the company, yes, sir, I know...Alright, sir.  MERRY CHRISTMAS, MR. LAWRENCE," I said, ending the call and trying hard not to sound bitter.  I'd just been told that I was being reassigned to our Seattle office, effective immediately, due to a critical personnel shortage.  The kids would not be at all pleased.  They would lose all their friends at the day care center, and neither of them could remember A CHRISTMAS WITHOUT SNOW.  Now we'd be moving to a place where the record snowfall for Christmas Day is eight-tenths of an inch!  Statistically, we'd have a better chance of spotting Sasquatch in our back yard.  Maybe some early presents would soften the blow...

An hour later, I WONDER AS I WANDER the aisles at We Be Toys, trying to coax Julie into deciding between the doll with the SILVER BELLS and the one with the gold lace, and hoping Matt will pick one of the three trucks in front of him before the store closes, how to give them the news, without them immediately seeing the toys for the bribes they are.  I really missed Susan at times like these; she'd have known exactly what to say.  It was our third Christmas since the accident, and the continuity of the life the three of us had built up was as important to me, as it was to the kids, maybe more.

I had almost decided on an opening gambit, when a jingling started up a couple of aisles over.  Matt and Julie leaped up at once, shouting "HERE COMES SANTA CLAUS!  Here comes Santa Claus!", just as the store's Santa appeared at the end of the aisle.  They were off in an instant, climbing all over him and shouting out their Christmas lists.  I sighed, knowing I'd have to tell them in the next day or two, but not wanting to spoil their happiness any sooner than necessary.  I freed Santa from their clutches, finally got them to decide on a toy, and off we went.

I told them that weekend and, a week later, we were in Seattle.  We settled into a decent townhome close enough to downtown for an easy commute, but far enough away that the area had a feeling of openness.  Little parks and random areas of greenery were everywhere, and the kids gradually started getting excited about the idea that we were now right between the Pacific Ocean and a mountain range - quite different from the plains surrounding our former home in Nebraska.  Unfortunately, they also figured out that the green grass, so different from the yellowed clumps occasionally visible through patches of snow back in Nebraska, meant that, as Julie put it, it wasn't really winter here. 

Christmas Eve arrived, and everything was still green.  Matt and Julie sat at the table, picking at their dinner and arguing about who had the larger portion of vegetables on their plate.  Suddenly, my attention was grabbed by a few of the words of the weatherman I'd been mostly watching - since I could barely hear the audio above the argument - and a graphic on the screen caught my eye.

"Wait a minute, kids," I interrupted, "DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR?"  I turned up the volume on the TV as the Severe Weather Advisory began to repeat its message: "The National Weather Service has issued a winter storm warning for the Pacific Northwest.  Two to four inches of snow are expected along the coast, with much higher totals in the Cascades..."  I muted the audio and looked at the kids.

"You what this means, don't you?" I asked them.

In unison, they screamed "A WHITE CHRISTMAS!"

Getting them to bed that night was harder than on any previous Christmas Eve.  Not only did they want to stay up to try and spot Santa, they wanted to see the first snowflake, too.  Eventually, though, their excitement ebbed and fatigue took over.  For a few minutes, I stood in the doorway and watched them sleep, then quietly closed the door.  I walked over to the living room window and pulled back the curtain.  Swirling into and out of the streetlights were little bits of white.  Snow!  Crank it up, I said to the flakes, 'cuz a little dusting just isn't going to cut it this year.  Setting my alarm for six o'clock, I turned in.

When my alarm woke me, I walked over to my bedroom window, pulled back a corner of the curtain - and smiled.  "Hey, kids," I called, "come and check this out!".  Moments later, four little feet came pounding down the hallway and around the corner.  They raced up to where I was standing.  With a little flourish, I pulled back the curtain.  Everywhere we looked, THE SNOW LAY ON THE GROUND.  Both kids started jumping up and down shouting, over and over, "It snowed!  It snowed on Christmas Day!  Yay!"

Watching their excitement and hearing Jose Feliciano's 'FELIZ NAVIDAD' coming from the radio, I decided that, for this Christmas, anyway, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE.

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