The two hundred and forty ninth story

Once upon a time there was a fir tree who spread out her needles JUST SO to catch snow in the most beautiful way.

the thirty eighth story

takes place right after the thirty seventh. In the end, we did not have what I would, as an adult, call snow. We had an icy covering on the grass, with maybe some hail pellets to make it look a little white. My brother and I, htough, were snow kids. We loved the snow. We loved snow men, and sledding, and the whole deal. Sadly, in addition to not having real snow, we also didn't have hills. My grandfather was in town, though, and while I have a lot of negative memories of that grandfather, this was one of those times when he put aside being an asshole for long enough to be one of the awesomest people on earth. He got my brother and I to put on our snowsuits, walked us down to the park, and spent the entire rest of the day- many hours- all the way to full dark- pulling as around the flat park in our sled. It couldn't have been any easier to pull than it would have been on a summer's day, but we were calling it snow, and wanted to go sledding on it, so he did it. It was fantastic.

the thirty seventh story

I was born in rural PA, but we moved to Florida when I was four. I missed the snow something fierce. The following winter, when I was in kindergarten, we got snow flurries. This had never happened. My teacher took us all out into the hallway, to  a big picture window, to watch the snow. I promptly walked back into the classroom, grabbed my (bright pink, faux) fur coat. Imagine, if you will, the tiniest girl in the class, the shy one who has to be badgered to so much as participate in saying the ABCs out loud with the class, and now imagine this bitty thing marching up to her teacher and announcing that she is going out to play in the snow. At first my teacher said no- school policy was not to let the kids out in the snow, for fear of colds. I held up my (pink faux) fur coat. Then she pointed out that she had to have her eye on the whole class, and couldn't let me out by myself, nor could she leave the class alone. I promised to stay by the window where she could see me. And then I walked past her, out the door, and caught snowflakes on my tongue while trying to make snow angels in a flurry.