This is how my brain works

I was reading a story about Marco Polo and how he chronicled his adventures through the east. He told a story recounted to him in the Persian city of Sevah about the wise men who went to see Jesus.

As I was reading the story of the wise men according to Marco Polo, I remembered I should get out my Christmas decorations, because even though I don’t have room to put up my itty-bitty tree, I could at least display my nativity set.

While I was pulling out my Christmas stuff, I found a snow globe the Manx gave me a few years ago. Seeing the snow swirl around in the globe made me think of winters in PA, and how I never liked snow.

Thinking about not liking snow made me think of this story my mom told me.

When I was a baby, about a year and a half old, I experienced my first snow. My mom dressed me up in my snowsuit; boots, hat and scarf, but she forgot to put my mittens on my hands and left them hanging on my “idiot string.” (That’s what my mom called the string she crocheted connecting my mittens to each other. The string ran through the sleeves of the coat and the mittens hung about an inch outside the sleeves so only an “idiot” could possibly lose one or both of her mittens.) She dressed me first and sent me out to the porch while she grabbed her coat.

She said I put my hand on the railing, which was covered in snow, and I just started screaming like someone was killing me. I had never touched snow before, and I didn’t like it.

After that she said I would cry every time she got out the snow suit, because I knew I was going to have to go outside and that cold stuff might get me again.