Do you remember:

...how the snow looked on the fire escapes? It would look like long lines of marshmallow puffs, perfect and unmoving. It was how you judged how deep the snow was. Or on the tops of the garbage cans? On the windows. The "Jack Frost" that would occasionally occur. Fascinating to a young girl with imagination. Swirls of fairy fern and ice trees....above the ice cycles hanging from the window sills.

How quiet it was? The only sound the scraping of the occasional shovel. I wish I could replicate that quiet... The almost sound, how snowflakes sound as they fall. 

The feel of the air..cold in the lungs, cloud of smoke from your breath. How your skin felt alive and fresh. Did you walk for hours, or just stop to look around and take it all in like a snapshot hoping not to lose the memory with time?

The sound of the snow swirling across the sidewalk as it drifted up against the buildings. That blue-ish gray cast all around that made everything seem like a dream?  

Did you ever stop to watch it accumulate on your arm? Hand?
Watch the flakes melt into each other? See it on your eyelashes? Smell it in your hair?

The hollow sound of the hallway vestibule when you stepped in. An echo, but not quite. Stamping feet on the rug. Hiss of the radiator. Dark but comforting. Climbing the steps, the only sound the slide of your boots on the marble, opening the window on each mid-landing to look at it swirling around the buildings and trees, all the while wanting nothing more than to head back down into the quiet, wishing it would go on forever.