This is a certain love story.
Leaving the city, "I" stayed with her lover in the snowy country. They spent a winter in the deep snow and that ended by the time the snow is gone.
The life there seemed like kind of dramatic for visitors as well as "I" though the lover says any life would seem dramatic if you omit details.

It is impossible for people to place an event precisely as if it were a sequence of scenes in a film. When you recall a certain event, you remember only some impressive moments and symbols and assemble them just like a jigsaw puzzle.
And the days she spent with her lover is all symbolized by "snow" in her memories. The word "snow" still reminds her of just that love. The memory from the word was more dramatic for her than a barest story told the way that her lover said.
In spring she visited the place where she stayed with her lover. Her good friend had died, his pool still covered with BLACK plastic, and some crocuses were blooming just like a few dots of white on the ground, which could not compare with snow white. It was no longer a world covered with white snow so that she realized her love was over.

昨日提出しようと0時過ぎてしまった。。。
なんか勘違ってるかもしれませんがもう提出します。

If I describe that winter, it is the snow.
I exactly remember one night we spent together, a chipmunk jumped and ran through the house. Most of the time of our first week we spent was scraping snow, at that time you put a towel turban like a king of snow, and finding some secrets in the house. A lot of people visited us, we all gathered around fireplace and told their amazing stories. But amazing stories is not amazing anymore because they always told the same stories. One night you gave me a lesson how to tell a story dramatically. Then, I drove back that house in April. I heard Allen had died next door. Allen was the good friend in my bad times. He had a pool in the backyard, covered with black plastic. When I drove through in front of our house, just a few dots of white crocuses I could see. I was embarrassed. The flowers remanded me of that winter nevertheless there was no snow.
The winter I spent with my lover in countryside was my memory. It became a word but I remember.

まだ昔の恋人のことを想っているみたいですね。そんな余韻のする物語。さむーい雪国を想像して読みました。
上手くまとまらないですがこれで提出します。
今回も提出遅くなってしまいました。
ハロウィンうちでもやりました。お時間あればHPに見に来て下さいね。

You and I fell in love, left the city and spent one winter together in the country. What I remember about that winter and what you remember about it are far different, and so are the ways that we told about it.

I remember the details and moments that makes the whole story dramatic. I remember the chipmunk, the pattern of wallpaper, the white towel which you wore on your head and the amazing stories told by the many visitors we had there. I remember the night knee-deep in snow. I felt like that the world had been upside down.

You remember it too, but not in a dramatic or romantic way. You thought that our visitors told the same stories people always tell and you said “ Any life will seem dramatic if you omit mention of most of it.”

I drove back there not long ago in April. Allen, next door, who always had been the good friends even in bad times, died. When I sat with his wife in their living room I saw Allen’s pool covered with black plastic. When I drove past the house we used to live in, I found a few dots of white which are crocuses and no field of snow. I felt embarrassed.

People remember seconds and symbols: the black shroud over the pool and the white field of snow. The symbol of that winter and the love for me is the snow. So even now the word “snow” brings me a special feeling and reminds me of the love in that winter. The snow disappeared and so did our love.

I remember clearly the sweet days I spent one winter with you and a lovely chipmunk.

We decided to live together in the countryside, and our first week in the house was spent making the rooms comfortable. The day of the big snow, when you had to shovel the walk, you looked like a crazy king of snow in white towel turban. A lot of people visited and told us amazing stories. I enjoyed them, but did they think any of them would come true? No, it was as hopeless as giving a child a matched cup and saucer, I think now.

I also remember the night, knee-deep in snow. It seemed that the world had been turned upside down, and looked as if we were looking into an enormous field of white flowers.

However, you remember it differently. I found you to be a realist, but I might be a romantic. Then our love was over.

In April, I drove back to the house when I knew Allen, next door, had died. In spite of all the visitors, he had been the good friend in bad times. Sitting with his wife in their living room, I saw Allen’s pool still covered with black plastic for winter. When I let that day, I found some crocuses bloom in front of the house where we used to live. Just a few of dots of white, no field of snow.

This is my love story. What I remember about all that time is one winter … "The snow". Even now, snow reminds me of my lovely days with you. Though neither of us could have said where the heart was, an artery cleared.