She squinted,
looking up into streetlights made blurry by the winter storm.

It used to be snow flurries made her sentimental,
pulled her back to memories of
sledding and mugs of hot chocolates,
extra marshmallows.

There was a time that all her remembrances were soft and cuddly,
blankets, stuffed animals and photo albums,
home movies inside her head.

Walking to her car this night,
parked at the far end of the funeral home's parking lot
she knew things had changed, and
that it would be a while before she associated snow with anything
other than cold.