I'm such a southerner

This afternoon saw an unexpected snowfall. The meteorologists had predicted just light flurries, but this was actual snow. The kind that sticks and creates slush and traffic havoc.

And I realized as I walked gingerly to school, I am still such a southerner.

I love snow. I do. I love the way it traces branches and leaves. The way it hushes sound, stilling the air. The pointillistic patterns it makes as it swirls in the air.

But I walked as if last winter had never happened. It was reflexive. I saw snow-covered sidewalk, and my body froze. I walked as if I was stepping on ice. Very slowly. Flat footed. Moving as creakily as an elderly woman who doesn't quite trust her knees. Ahead, my yankee child skipped across the snow. She ran and hopped joyously, pointing out the scattered pattern of footprints she left on the pristine white surface.

I'm such a southerner.