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  • They said that snow would never come, it was merely taunting us this year; a thin blanket no more protecting than an old newspaper. We'd run out on the still-green grass, laughing at nature. "We have fooled you this year!" We'd sing of the times where our snowmen's hats stayed firmly on the neighbor's head. The shovels stood their ground in worn out garages, sheltering salt that was forced to hide in bags, yearning of the chance to be spilled out upon the pavement.

    Gone were the days of slush, mush, and the blush of girls whom slipped on ice! Their rosy cheeks would only be the result of swooning men, not frozen puddles! Gone are the broken bumpers of the new drivers, eager to pull out of their driveway and into the school parking lot, where the trucks lined up, now unimpressive. The sedans did not fear dry roads.

    How wonderful it was, our frozen summer, bare trees reaching out to white skies on top of empty ground. Did we need our boots and hats and gloves in a world without fluff? We toss them off and shiver; the sun was closer but cooler now.

    And then it sank in on us, as our feet once did on the layers of packed snow. Gone were the days of slush, mush, and the blush of girls whom slipped on ice. Their rosy cheeks no longer bright, the twinkle of forgotten snow flakes only a distant memory now. Gone is the excitement of steep hills and cheap sleds, our races to the bottom and the powdery brush. Our sleds sit, covered in dust and not ice, uncracked like they should have been after a long day on the hill.

    The wonder was gone now, as we sat in the cold, looking for the color white. All we could see was above us, that fluff was high, would it not come down to us once again? We wanted to once more slip and laugh and build forts and tackle men of snow, not sit inside, drinking hot chocolate after nothing.

    Oh winter, how we miss you.
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