A memory of snow

“A long time ago, in the very depths of Earth’s winter, we had a festival. People sang carols, ate delicious food and exchanged gifts, and it would snow.”

“Snow?” The child’s eyes were wide as she gazed at her grandfather.

“Yes, snow; pure white, cold as ice. It fell in pretty flakes from the sky and settled until the snow was thick and blanketed everything. Every house, every road, every field, every tree, until the whole world was pure white.” He sighed. “It was just beautiful.”

“Do you miss it Grandpa? Earth I mean?”

The old man could only nod.