We had our first snow of the season yesterday. My daughter was ecstatic. I’ve always loved the first snows of early winter. It seems to justify the cold weather. And the way it covers everything in a blanket of white feels like forgiveness. I always regretted tromping through freshly fallen sheet of snow in a yard or a field, disturbing the perfection with the evidence of my existence.
I have since given up on such conceptions of perfection and forgiveness. Now I understand that the snow only covers up the evidence of life underneath, but it does not eliminate it. And I know snow is made for tromping, and for making snow angels. And these things I no longer regret.