Winter’s Promise

Wrinkled coats and the odor of mothballs have crowded the bus this week. In Colorado, this is almost always the week of the first snow and in DC it must be the week of digging out your winter coat. I’ve wondered what it would be like to wait for the bus in the cold and how warm it could possibly be with the door opening every 3 blocks. The anticipation this fall has reminded me of another winter.

I was 8 when I moved to Colorado and had never really seen snow; I remember that winter clearly. The snow snuck up on us just after moving. I remember the light purple jacket and tube socks that served as a winter coat and mittens before we bought winter gear. I remember making ice cream with my brothers from the snow on top of our hedge out front. I remember the scratchy texture of my first scarf; and how I loved to go to King Soopers, the grocery store, because of the huge gust of warm wind blowing down from the vent at the front door.

I wonder what winter promises this year and why I’m so full of that third grade anticipation? Usually I just hope for mild temperatures, no wind, and lots of snow - the clean kind (It’s no good two days out when it’s all slushy). This year though, winter’s promise feels more like the move to Colorado – I’m certain something exciting waits…

As for the bus, some days I’m surprised we make it at all; especially with the extra space needed to accommodate those mothball-smelling parkas. But maybe that strange sense of newness and uncertainty on the 54 is why I’m reminded of my first Colorado winter. I wasn’t sure what to expect then either, but spring eventually came and with it we had settled into a new home, perspective and way of life.