Snow in the South

There’s something strangely wonderful when weather contradicts setting. It only snows once every few years in the south, and when I rolled over in bed last night to the sound of my fellow students laughing and shouting in the parking lot, I wondered if the weather report had come true.

All day people had been murmuring over the possibility of snow flurries in the middle of the night. And, with the rain and the frigid temperatures, it actually seemed possible. In states like Mississippi and Alabama, snow is cause for celebration and panic.

As the clock flicked closer to midnight, I pried open the blinds and peered out at the parking lot connected to my dorm. Snow capped the cars and blanketed patches of grass. College students skipped and ran through the lot, scooping up meager handfuls of snow to make icy ammunition in a coming war.

My best friend and roommate joined me on my bed so we could marvel over the unfamiliar sight of snow on southern ground. There wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep people out in the chilly air for a couple of hours.

Morning came and, with it, an email stating that certain morning classes were cancelled because of the snow.

I, having already showered and dressed, jumped back onto my bed and opened the blinds. Heaps and quilts of brilliant snow-covered the cars and grass. Lines of the frozen stuff topped tree branches. Everything was light and clean and shiny.

While I grumbled over getting up at seven in the morning for nothing, I settled down with my iPad and the giddy thought that it had actually snowed in Mississippi. How wonderfully strange.

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