Saddening snow

On our way to preschool we spot the first snowflakes. Big Brother is super excited: ever since last winter he has been longing for snow so he could make a snowman again.
I'm meeting Big Brother's teacher to evaluate his education and skills, since he'll be leaving for primary school soon. As expected, she tells me that he's thriving there. That he feels safe enough to approach her whenever he gets sad. That there have been periods where he sat on her lap, whimpering, and only played on his own, silently in a corner. In short, I heard about a grieving Big Brother whom I never encountered at home the past year.

When I leave the building, a tiny layer of snow has fallen. I swallow my tears. The last time I walked in the snow was in France, December 2010. Location and date are irrelevant: it was in my 'before life'. The four of us made snowmen in the garden of the propriété privée; Kenji's father took family pictures. Kenji however looked thin and strangely pale, but his proud smile while holding his little boys and wife made you forget his unusual appearance. Twenty eight days after that picture the 'after life' would come knocking on our door.

The boys are off to their grandparents for the weekend. I packed serious snowmen building gear for them to be able to play outside as exuberantly as possible. The first snowman of 2012 won't be build by mama, let alone papa. If only we were still in that French garden.