{"id":142099,"date":"2020-01-17T09:00:31","date_gmt":"2020-01-17T14:00:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=142099"},"modified":"2020-01-14T17:18:15","modified_gmt":"2020-01-14T22:18:15","slug":"first-snow","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/01\/17\/first-snow\/","title":{"rendered":"First Snow"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>Jill Talbot\u2019s column,\u00a0<a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/columns\/the-last-year\/\">The Last Year<\/a>,<\/em>\u00a0<em>traces the moments before her daughter leaves for college. It ran every Friday in November, and returns this winter month, then will return again in the spring and summer.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/adobestock_134418342.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-large wp-image-142103 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/adobestock_134418342-1024x683.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"1024\" height=\"683\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/adobestock_134418342-1024x683.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/adobestock_134418342-300x200.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/01\/adobestock_134418342-768x512.jpg 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>A silver mixing bowl, that\u2019s what I remember my mother handing me. I was five. My first snow ice cream. For five years, my daughter and I have lived in this Texas town. For five years, no snow. But this morning, snow rushed down as my daughter slept. I snuck outside and cupped enough from the hood of her car. Milk, vanilla, sugar, and a pinch of salt. My mother\u2019s bowl.<\/p>\n<p>This is not missing. This is us, living.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/columns\/the-last-year\/\">Read earlier installments of\u00a0<\/a><\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/columns\/the-last-year\/\"><em>The Last Year<\/em>\u00a0<\/a><em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/columns\/the-last-year\/\">here.<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n<p><em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/author\/jtalbot\/\">Jill Talbot<\/a>\u00a0is the author of<\/em>\u00a0The Way We Weren\u2019t: A Memoir\u00a0<em>and\u00a0<\/em>Loaded: Women and Addiction<em>. Her writing has been recognized by\u00a0the Best American Essays and appeared in journals such as\u00a0<\/em>AGNI<em>,<\/em>\u00a0Brevity<em>,<\/em>\u00a0Colorado Review<em>,<\/em>\u00a0DIAGRAM<em>,<\/em>\u00a0Ecotone<em>,<\/em>\u00a0Longreads<em>,<\/em>\u00a0The Normal School<em>,<\/em>\u00a0The Rumpus<em>,<\/em><em>\u00a0and\u00a0<\/em>Slice Magazine<em>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A silver mixing bowl, that\u2019s what I remember my mother handing me. I was five. My first snow ice cream. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":487,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[59083],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-142099","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-last-year"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>First Snow by Jill Talbot<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"January 17, 2020 \u2013 A silver mixing bowl, that\u2019s what I remember my mother handing me. I was five. 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