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My daughter was born in Vancouver in the winter. We didn't get much snow around there most years but that year, on Christmas Eve, a blanket fell over the world.

My mother had come to visit for Enya's first Christmas and we were both tired by the time midnight arrived. My daughter was still awake and, when I went to pick her up from her crib, I noticed the snow still falling out the window. Large, fluffy snowflakes lit by the streetlamps and surrounded by a classical silent night.

I picked up my child, dressed her in one of those soft cozies made for infants in the winter, and told my mother I wanted to go for a walk. Usually the more sentimental of the two of us, my mom was surprised and hesitant because of the late hour. Nevertheless, she grabbed her coat and the two of us crunched a path into the snow, my daughter bundled to the front of me in a carrier.

Though Enya quickly fell asleep from the rocking motion of my footsteps, that night was one that will stand out in my memory forever. My mother and I haven't always gotten along but, by the time we returned, the crisp cool air, the peaceful quiet of that silent Christmas Eve, with only the snow falling softly and my new baby asleep against my chest was the most magical moment we've shared. When we returned she looked at me and spoke the first words since we had left.

"I'm glad we did that."

This is wonderful, Koan.

Thank you for sharing it with us.

That is truly lovely :-6

You're a wonderful writer, Koan

Thanks

I'd love to hear other people's snapshot memories as well.

I remember the big blizzard of 1978.

I was in high school then. At about 10:30 in the morning, they announced over the speakers that school was getting dismissed early, as the snowflakes were big and they were expecting up to a foot of snow.

Little did anyone know that it would keep snowing for over 24 hours.

Cars were not permitted on the roadways. The only vehicles you would see were military trucks and emergency vehicles. Everyone had to walk everywhere. The local town hall supplied everyone with bread and milk. People would take their sleds or wagons out and walk downtown to get the food. You would see neighbors you hadn't seen in months. Schools were closed for over one week.

Everyone was reduced to the same level. It seems we all connected with each other during that time.

It was magical and wonderful. :-6

First the thrill at getting out of school

Then the unusual experience of seeing a community working together. Great memory.

nicely told.

I think I could hear a welsh accent when I read that.

helefra;482808 wrote: And proud of being Welsh
It started with this line:

"I was only a young thing and my brothers were also young ones at this time."

If you'd said young 'uns I'd have been totally there. In the land of Wales.

I remember hitting Leo Bezner in the stomach with my hockey helmet. I still feel bad about that, but I was 9 so get off my back !