Every once in a while, I miss the snow. I miss waking up and seeing everything covered in white, I miss having school cancelled and being stuck at home. I miss cracking the window open near my bed and having icy air mixed with tiny crystals blow in, the way that dogs run with their noses plowing, the way my face and skin feel warm under my clothes when I'm shoveling, the tiny strip of ice on the sidewalk that forces me off balance for a second. It would be impossible to completely rewire all that. I don't miss the dirty slush, the dressing of everyone in layers, salty puddles by the front doorway and endless grey days, but I have to say that here in California, when I have to roll the windows down in January and look at people wearing sleeveless shirts and sundresses, and when day after day after day is sunny and bright and cloudless, I feel like I don't belong.
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