Dear Mr. Snow,
You were handsome last night as I sat tight in my warm, cozy home. No one was on the streets. I hoped everyone was where they should be. I had my books, "Words With Friends" on my Kindle, and an occasional uplift of the Mute button on the TV, just in case something looked good.
But I kept going to the window looking at you fall and blow around. Memories of my snowy childhood always come back to me when I see you falling--snow up to our waists many times, no make-up school days just because of your tricks, and snow men/balls/caves galore. We'd play late into the night because you were at your best then--dark, cold, starry skies with your brightness all around us. Lake Michigan shores also became an alien planet with all the snow and ice. Thanks for all the memories.
Before I went to bed, all I could say about you again was "That's a lot of snow." We haven't seen you do this to us for awhile, Mr. Snow. You came late, but when basketball sectionals come to Indiana, this is what you do. I thought you were done last week, but it wasn't March. I know you can't stay very long because temps will rise. It's like your good-bye to all of us--a great farewell as usual.
When I got up this morning I said, "That's a lot of snow" again. I knew the temps would be rising, so I had better get out there and remove as much of you as I could before the cold night. You will just turn to ice and that's a whole other letter. It took forever to clear you from the deck, steps, and mailboxes. I know, this is what you do. I wished I had my grandkids here to really enjoy you again.
How long will your farewell be? Sorry, I don't mean to sound impatient, but we're all ready to move on to the next season. We will be thrilled again to see your first appearance next winter, never knowing how much you will fill our days. See you in my dreams until then.
Adieu, mon ami d'enfance.