February 11, 1990 | Age 12 | Tacoma
Dear Diary,
I layed in bed, stuffing in a bit of last minute spelling word studying (inflorescence, loquacious, Zoroastrianism, etc.), when my mother trotted in with her hands behind her back. "Open your mouth and close your eyes," said she.
Well, knowing my mother better, I hesitated. Then I did it, expecting the worst.
Something cold and soft was then thrust into my open mouth.
First thing that came into my vivid mind was mouse. I shuddered and opened my eyes to see a tad of snow that had bailed out of my mouth. Snow!
*
When I looked outside, the magical frolic of the silent night snow reminded me of you.
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