Snow Boots

Snow. There shouldn't be any reason to grieve when it comes to snow. Oh, but there is. I can't help but wonder what my almost three year old would think of something as ordinary as snow. My mind conjures up an image. I can almost picture him, bundled up, rosy cheeks, laughing as he waddles around. Almost. Not quite. It's fuzzy. Anyway, it’s only a fantasy. My thoughts turn to reality. I think of how he was too little to really enjoy the couple of snows we experienced together, although he did laugh out loud as my parent’s dog chased and dove for snow balls. It is real, a wonderful memory so it shouldn't be fuzzy, but it is. That adds another layer of pain.