Growing up in South Florida, my children often longed for winters different from the backdrop of swaying palm trees. After all, they had watched plenty of holiday movies with picturesque snowy settings and insisted that building sandcastles on the beach could not compare to making snow angels on a field blanketed with freshly fallen snow.
They had seen snow before, on trips to New York City, Utah and Vermont. But they were either babies or toddlers at the time, unable to recall the feeling of glee captured in the photographs I presented as proof.
To make up for it, I tried recreating winter experiences however I could. There were the ice-skating outings to the Coral Springs rink, attempts to freeze snowballs like D.W. had done in their favorite show, “Arthur,” and in the direst of times, mimicking snow angels in piles of fallen leaves.
Then, we made holiday plans to visit family in Madrid with a layover in London on our journey back. While winters in the Iberian Peninsula are mild, London promised a slight chance of snow. Both children clung to this hope. It didn’t matter that we’d see Big Ben, St. Paul’s Cathedral or Buckingham Palace. Snow was front and center on their minds and they chattered about it nonstop during our chilly, but sadly snow-free, three days there.
Everything London had to offer paled in comparison without the white stuff. Yes, it was cool that those guys with the furry hats (the Queen’s Guards, I’d gently inform them) stood so still, but imagine if snowflakes were falling and tickling their noses — would they be motionless then? The double-decker bus was neat, they’d offer just to appease me, but let’s sit on the top (open) deck just in case the real excitement (snow, snow!) begins. We traipsed up and down the city checking off activities I’d hope they’d love that merely ended on a flat note because Mother Nature hadn’t joined in on the fun.
Our last day was one I wasn’t looking forward to. We had an early departure and had to be ready at 5 a.m. I managed to rouse two sleepy children just as the cab arrived. The mood was somber, borderline grumpy, when all of a sudden, a single snowflake delicately settled on my daughter’s long eyelash.
“Was that…snow?” her voice trembled with excitement.
Another fell, then another. Her younger brother jolted awake as well.
“Yes, yes!” It is!” he sang in disbelief.
And right on cue, a gentle snow flurry that seemed specifically scheduled for these two South Floridian children enveloped us.
There, in the early dawn, the children danced, twirled and yes, made snow angels. Their laughter and joy were infectious. Some apartment lights flickered on and one sleep-deprived man may have shouted for silence. I can’t recall exactly — we were too busy enjoying what would become the highlight of our trip, a cherished memory I still hold close today.
Happy Reading!
Alona Abbady Martinez
alona@bocaratonobserver.com