Its snowing here in Washington State tonight. And if you have ever lived here, then you know that this is somewhat a big deal. Not to say that it never snows here, it just usually doesn’t. In fact, during my first winter here two years ago, we had a huge blizzard. No one could get to work, there wasn’t enough salt or trucks for the massive job, and most people were without power for a week. Everyone was pissed. I was ecstatic.
I grew up in upstate New York. Middle of nowhere, on top of a hill, surrounded my two small ‘lakes’ and pine trees. In the summer, if I sat on our porch, I could hear crickets, bullfrogs, the drag races from the third hill over, and I could see every single star. It took me three minutes to walk to the pond (now called Lake Melinda for whatever stupid reason) behind our house whenever I wanted and fish. The road was dirt when I was little and when I was in middle school, the town upgraded it to stone and tar. The tar bubbled when it was really hot out and my sister and I would pop them with our toes. We had three forts in the woods and we even finished building one once right before it started raining. It was a good fort. Not a single drop of water leaked through the roof.
There was always a good chance of it snowing on Halloween and it was guaranteed on Thanksgiving. Spring was officially there when you could smell the skunks and here the geese come back. And winter started when the geese flew north. And there was always snow on Christmas day. Always.
Washington doesn’t believe in Christmas snow. For the past two years, I have not been in a Christmas mood. This will make the third Christmas since I left home. With the snow finally covering the ground with big fat fluffy flakes, you’d think I’d feel a little cheer, but I don’t. Instead I feel even more homesick. Its snowing. But its still not home. And I’m not sure it will ever feel like home.