I remember as a child there was this whimsical quality about the first snow. The thought of waking up in the warmth of your bed and looking out the window to see fat, white snowflakes falling down from the sky and laying softly down on a fresh pile of snow. Children wake up, hair disheveled, and run down the hall bouncing with excitement in their pajamas trying to find out if their snow day dream has come true.
Parents wrap themselves up in thick, fuzzy robes and make steaming cups of coffee in hope that the beverage will warm no only their cold hands but their insides. Slowly hats and mittens are pulled out of drawers and the snow boots are retrieved from the corner of the laundry room. The children have put on seven different layers of clothing and their coat, making it hard for them to maneuver their small limbs. They waddle outside just as the sun beings to peak its head over the horizon and being making snowmen, snowballs, snow castles -- with snow, anything is possible. By the end of the fun, cheeks are a rosy pink and fingers are frozen solid but everyone’s hearts are warm.
Somewhere snow stopped being magic and just became snow. It became a hassle. Instead of waking up early in the morning giddy to watch the snow stick to the grass below, I just woke up to see if class was canceled and went straight back to bed. The first snow stopped being an anticipation but more of a pain: the roads will close, it will ice, there will be wrecks and it will be so very frigid. In college when it snowed, I wasn’t greeted by the sweet scent of apple cinder and hot chocolate and I didn’t hear the gleeful sound of children playing in the streets. There was no mass snowball fight in the middle of the lawn, no Bruin version of a snowman. The few drawings I saw in the snow got wiped out by some cold-hearted Jack Frost figure. It almost made me forget what snow is…what it really means.
Snow. The magical natural phenomenon that occurs in the winter when the rain freezes and turns into white fluffy flakes that falls from the sky. There is something so picturesque and beautiful about snow.
The way that it drifts slowly down from the gray winter clouds dancing and twirling in the wind. How when it sticks to the ground, it covers everything in a thick blanket of white transforming the world around you into something bright and calm. The air of quiet that falls on the city when it snows is serene as if the city itself has fallen into a deep sleep. The ringing sound of children laughing echoes through the middle of the streets. Mittens, hats, and scarves. Snowmen, snowballs, eating snow and sledding. Sitting down by the fire with a warm cup of hot chocolate and that book you’ve been meaning to read for an eternity. Cuddled up with loved ones on the couch watching a movie. Snow is beauty, joy and warmth on a cold gray winter day.
