Whose Story Is This Anyways?

Growing up 25 miles away from the Rocky Mountains you learn to develop an appreciation for snow. Not always a deep rooted love but a respect. Every year around November you could feel the snow coming. Closer and closer. The snow didn’t just mean the cold. It meant a lot of different things at different points in my life. Most of my life growing up snow meant that Christmas was around the corner. I could make a list as long as I wanted asking Santa for every gift I could ever imagine. As I got a little older around freshman year of high school, snow just reminded me that first semester was almost over and I was one step closer to my birthday in January. 

I’m at a point in my life where snow is comforting to me. I clearly am aware it snows all over the place and Colorado isn’t the first or only state to experience it. But I can’t help but feel a little bit more at home no matter where I am if the snow is falling and the sky is dimming; grey or orange depending on the time.

It was one year at our first house, me and my sister were still young and my brother was just a baby. The snow had piled itself high in the backyard. So high it created towers taller than the light brown fence that separated our backyard from the neighbors. This is my first memory of snow. My mom and I and my sister and dad built two snow forts and had a snowball fight all day long. Finishing the day with hot chocolate as one does. This is one of my most comforting and nostalgic memories.

“The blizzard when you and emma were little. We had so much snow that I had to shovel off the top of the garage so it wouldn’t collapse. The snow was taller than you!  Even before it was shoveled and piled up.” When I asked my dad about his own favorite memory involving the snow, I wasn’t surprised when he had the same memory that I did. We often reminisce about this day. All four of us have different ways to share the story because we all had different experiences but we all remember it clearly.  

Sense we both talked about the same memory I talked to my dad about how he has personally seen the weather change and how it compares to where he grew up. My dad grew up in Indiana, but has lived in Colorado since 1995 when he was 27. I have lived no where but Denver my whole life. “I’ve noticed that winters have become drier and even more mild. But the funny part is that as I’ve gotten older, I must have gotten “softer” because I FEEL like the winters are worse. But the data just doesn’t support my feelings”. We talked about how we’ve both seen the shorter periods of cold and the lighter or less snow storms. Even from freshman year to senior year. Freshman year walking to a coffee shop in knee deep snow to senior year spending my 18th birthday in the mountains and barely needing my jacket.  

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