Hot coco mustaches washed away by sips of cool water and streaks of sweat.
A 'snow sky': something felt, not forecasted, giving way to tropical skies dumping buckets of warm summer rain with just the flick of a switch.
Knee-high socks, traded swiftly for knee-high shaves.
Suits of snow, for suits of gabardine.
Pink noses, for pink cheeks.
Afternoons spent watching Granddad expertly snow-doze the drive, to afternoons spent shuttle watching for daddy's return from work.
Mornings in our zippy pj's, for mornings in our zippy pj's.
Evenings combing toy catalogs with Ma tucked neatly beneath a blanket, for evenings combing the sky for Santa through coconut palms.
Bags of mittens and hats, for bags of mangos and sunscreen.
Noses pressed to cold windows in awe of swirling snow, for noses pressed to walls of glass in awe of sea blue pools.
Falling asleep counting inches of snow and waking up to parrot songs.
Like anything truly great that transpires in life, nothing great ever comes without a huge crescendo. This was surely ours.
elise
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