35

White flakes float from the white sky and dogs are rough housing with the kids. I remember when Dad confronted the neighbors after their son had bloodied my iced nose. He was white with anger and I was cold. As I walk down the street to the store the neighborhood kids are at it again, living in the snow, building snow houses. I remember how the cold didn't affect my young bones, but now I'm old, and I am making dinner tonight.