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to our guilty in guilty valley."
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Every morning, before we went skiing,
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he would get up really early and make me
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his snowflake cinnamon french toast.
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Sounds amazing.
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And as he dusted the cinnamon and sugar on top,
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he'd say, "look, sweetheart, it's snowing,
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snowing just for you."
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And then he'd cut it into these little pieces...
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See? I can't even get the words out.
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No one will ever hear them. No one will know.
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I'll know. I heard them.