First Snow
Pepper Scott
For someone who cannot remember dates to save her life, it feels slightly suspicious that I remember the first time I saw snow. Not just vaguely. Not in a “sometime back then” way. I remember the exact time, the date, the month, the year. Apparently, my brain makes exceptions for miracles.
I came from a tropical country, where winter is mostly a rumor and white things fall only if someone drops laundry from a balcony. So when snow finally arrived, “excited” was not nearly enough. I went outside immediately, underdressed and overconfident, holding out my hands like I had been practicing my whole life. Big snowflakes landed on my palms and vanished before I could even say hello. I stood there anyway. Cold. Happy. Slightly ridiculous.
The next day, I told my colleagues with the enthusiasm of someone who had just witnessed a natural wonder. They nodded politely and said, “The flurry last night? That didn’t count.”
I was disappointed, yes. But also unmoved. It counted to me. It still does. It was my first snow. A miracle. Truly.
Time moved on, as it tends to do. I have since seen snowstorms that did not ask for permission. Once, my student’s condo was buried so thoroughly that the snow rose higher than the front door. We were trapped inside for more than a day, waiting for campus services to rescue us from the great white silence. It was inconvenient. It was memorable. It was still not my first snow.
That honor remains untouched.
Years later, when Terry and I moved from Tucson to the high desert, we watched our first snow together. The sky glowed brighter than daytime, as if the world had turned on an extra light just for us. The flurries fell and reflected everything, becoming sparkly and alive. I searched for the right word and came up empty-handed.
Since then, every first snow of the season brings the same feeling. Freshness. Purity. A quiet reminder of all the good things life has given me, often without warning.
The first snow came much quieter this year.
Still magical.
Still counting.
Always a blessing.


