Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong (shadesong) wrote,
Magical Truthsaying Bastard Shadesong

rewind to 1990

I blew on the tiny, smoldering coal - not my first fire, but close to it, close enough that I didn't yet trust my skills. Shoved my hair back behind my ears. Blew slowly, evenly, carefully, til it ignited the tinder around it, til coal became fire, meager as it was, still fire, ground and blown into life by me, sixteen and exiled to the Utah desert. (This was my first tour of duty in the wilderness survival camp. I would turn seventeen soon, still here, far from home.) We were at Trap Camp, the first stop of the second stage of the program - white cliff walls incongruous in the middle of red rock canyons, sage and juniper surrounding.

I stood - and blinked, bewildered, at a drop of wet too fine and soft to be rain. And another.

I looked up.

It took one of the staff members to make me realize what was happening. "It's snowing," she laughed at my stunned expression.


Tiny bits of white cold spiralling down out of the sky, slow and then faster, drifting, dancing, collecting on my outstretched hands, on my hair. The rest of the "campers" huddled for warmth under the blue plastic tarp that served as our only protection from elements and wildlife alike, cold and jaded, while little Floridian 'song laughed and danced. "Snow," I breathed, surrounded by tiny frozen miracles. "Snow!"
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