I used to hate snow

Snowflakes started falling from the sky. It was a pleasant view.
But Johnny thought it wasn't.

He was a 9 year old boy who enjoyed the summer time and not the winter time.
Johnny glanced through the window at other kids that were sliding from the hills; either sliding by themselves or with the help of a sled.
His mother asked him about joining the other kids.
He reacted angrily and went back in his room where he sobbed.
That anger came from embarrassment, because he was too shy to talk to other kids that he didn't know, and those at his school lived in a different place.

On another day, somebody went sliding and hit a tree. It was near his house.
He tried looking around to see if there was somebody else, but nobody came to help that person.
Johnny took a big gulp and went outside.

Wearing extremely warm clothes, he approached cautiously.
A hand popped out of the snow and that made him shriek.
Gulping again, he commenced quickly to help the person. He grabbed the person's hand and helped them to their feet. But it was a "she" and she was okay.
Rachel, a girl about his size and one year older than him, gave her thanks and gave a kiss on the cheek, as gratitude.
That made Johnny very happy and he will always remember that winter day.
The day he met his wife.