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October 28, 2016
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Meeting Annie

The conversation quickly turned to my description of the view outside the train window and her memories of sleigh riding in the snow during winter as a child. “When you are blind, every other sense works overtime,” she told me, “and the smell of the snow is as strong as the scent of a rose or a steak on a grill.”

“What does it smell like?” I asked.

“It is different for everyone,” she said. “To me it’s fresh, clean, bright and crisp. The scent fills my nose, then my cheeks start to tingle.”

“The moment, no, the second, just before the snow would rise up from my sled and into my face as a child, that’s what it’s like.” What a wonderful description.

As I helped her with her bags from the train, Annie introduced me to her folks as her “friend” Tom. Mom and Dad shook my hand to thank me, and off they went.

It was dark when I pulled up in front of my barn, rolling down the windows, shutting the engine off; I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. There it was, just as Annie had described, familiar as can be. It was as if I were smelling it for the first time. The smell of snow is beautiful.