Snow in the Trees

I was ten the year we returned from a three year mission trip to Ghana, West Africa. It must have been in late summer. We arrived in New York City. I have a vague memory of my father toying with the idea of living in New York and going to school. I have one of those memories that are old enough to have lost their color. The memory is in black and white. We were with my mother and father looking at an apartment. The next memory I have is our drive down the country two lane road that led to my paternal grandparent's home. They were tobacco and cotton farmers. My father thought it would be fun to surprise them. We were the ones surprised. Both of my grandparents had gone to South Carolina and had their teeth pulled and been fitted with dentures. They were not home when we arrived. My father did not enjoy losing the surprise factor and my grandparents arrived back home with mouths throbbing with the intrusion of new teeth. In retrospect my father's failed surprise and my grandparent's surprise of new teeth in tender mouths plus the appearance of the five of us fresh from Africa must have made for, in the adult world, an awkward day.


My father helped my grandfather with the farm for a short while. They became tired of each other and my father decided we would move to Raleigh. No jobs, no place to live except for the kindness of at least one family that took us in for a short time. I remember doing homework in their home.


My dad bought camping equipment and we moved to Umstead Park just outside of Raleigh. I cannot say how long we camped out, went to school, did our homework by lantern light and slept in tents. I know we ended up in a small, white house for a brief period of time and moved from there to a larger brick home near the N.C. State University campus. The weather was getting cooler as fall and winter took the place of summer. There are so many memories from that period of time but the best memory of all was a winter surprise of momentous proportion.


Darkness fell one evening without a hint in my ten year old mind of what might be happening outside the back door. I remember my mother calling us to go outside. I remember she was excited. I remember stepping outside. A porch light was on and probably a streetlight was nearby. After a brief adjustment to the darkness I remember noticing that the air was filled with flakes falling one after the other to the ground. I was taken off guard. My mother was laughing in her own excitement of watching each of her children respond to her one word, "SNOW"! Snow? A thrill swept through me. I tilted my head toward the sky, stuck my tongue out and let the flakes fall onto it as amazement flooded me. The snow deepened. My mother made snow cream and let us dress for further adventures in that wondrous, silent downpour of big, fluffy snowflakes. I remember looking up into the falling snow as the streetlights and the light from the windows of our home cast patterns of shadow and light across the yard. I remember feeling happy in a deep, personal way. We were home!