"We Called It Snow" by Alicia Combs
My hometown was hills; sledding
down, clinging to plastic rims
of lids taken from toy boxes.
We called them sleds.
Or for sitting on skateboards in the heat
and racing down. Tumbling off
when we reached the bottom.
Elbows scraped and bruised,
a familiar satisfying sting.
We would bundle up in coats
Mom bought at Walmart on clearance
to take off
as soon as home was out of sight,
tying them around our waists
and basking in the sun.
We danced in cold grey rain
and called it snow,
turning our pale hands toward the sky
to catch them before they melted
away.
Then we would tramp inside
seeing ourselves as Hallmark children
coming to retrieve our deserved chocolate.
Rosy cheeks stinging at warmth.
Weary adventurers tired of snow.
Alicia Combs is a junior at Stephen F. Austin State University where she is majoring in Orientation and Mobility and minoring in Creative Writing. She was born in Germany, but home will always be in Texas. Alicia is an officer for Subplots, the creative writing club at Stephen F. Austin University.