The First Snow in Texas

I grew up in Houston and had never seen real snow until this winter, when my job moved me to Minneapolis.

On the first snowfall in November, I was in my apartment when I saw flakes drifting past the window. I ran outside in my slippers. My neighbors, who were scraping their windshields, looked at me like I was crazy as I stood in the parking lot with my arms out, catching snowflakes on my tongue.

Then the man next door, a retired mail carrier named Gary, put down his scraper and asked, "First one?" I nodded. He smiled and showed me how to make a snowball, then how to make a snow angel, lying down in the snow next to me in his parka.

We built a lopsided snowman by the dumpster. I sent a photo to my mom in Houston. She called me immediately, shrieking. Gary has been my winter mentor ever since.