Snow

I have loved snow for as long as I can remember. Maybe love isn't the right word. I have revered it with a sacred obsession. I'm not sure why. I know there are parts of the world that encounter it daily as routine. I realize there are places that are devastated by it (especially this winter, and yes, I'm tired of the cold, dreary weather presently…how do people do this every winter?)

But for me and my experience, snow has always been a divine gift. I've revisited this topic far too many times, I'm sure.

As a little boy growing up in Mesquite, Texas, I can remember my mom waking me and leading me to the sliding glass door to see our back yard blanketed in white wonder. I could count on one hand these  moments. Snow made the world look different…softer and much more peaceful. As a little boy who worried too much about everything, peacefulness was always welcomed.

Each snow (or in some cases ice) connects concretely to profound memories over the years: I can remember building snowmen with my family and sliding on these plastic, circular "sleds" and being overwhelmed by all of the white. I remember making my sister take pictures of me in the snow as a teenager. I remember that feeling of realizing school was cancelled. As I grew older I remember having stolen days with roommates and friends and savoring each moment. Walking down the street or to the park was a magical adventure. I remember braving a drive to see RENT at the movies with a group of friends. The "snow" made it all the better, of course.

Last Thursday, as I drove to work, tiny crystal flurries began to fall onto my windshield. I grinned and recalled hubbubs about the flurries we might receive and didn't think much of it. The farther I drove, the bigger and bolder the snow became. I was absolutely struck by the way it moved across the pavement on the highway. I'd never seen it do that before. It looked like some potion was spilling out of the sky and gracefully dancing for us. 

When I got out of the car at work, the world had been transformed. Not visually, but the sound and feel of everything was different. It has always fascinated me that the "sound" of snowfall makes the rest of the world fall more silent. I could already feel the difference in the ground and anticipated the "thwa, thwa" sound of my shoes crunching the snow on the way to my car later. 

Throughout work/school that day, I found myself lingering by doors and windows repeatedly. I'm worse than the kids. At one point, I snuck into a friend's empty classroom at lunch and just stared out the window and watched it fall for a few minutes.

For the past year, I've been thinking about, reading about, and writing about a topic for my ABYDOS Literacy Writing Trainer Recertification. I started the project after a series of heartbreaking, devastating, and disturbing events took place in our nation and world. School and movie shootings, explosions, and bombings to name a few. The purpose of my topic is my belief that writing helps us cope and grow more brave in a very scary world. 

I can be a bit of a romantic cheese ball, but I'm also a realist. I am very aware of the horrors we face in life, and I've experienced some personally.  BUT I don't believe those dark demons have to destroy us.

I've talked about this with some of my closest friends, but my favorite books and movies aren't action packed or fast-paced. Most of them have very similar themes. Life is hard, and we have to work daily to make our way in it, but there are these brilliant, profound, joy-filled moments that fall like a dusting of snow in our lives every now and then, and they can outweigh those dark times. They make it all worthwhile.

I was watching Downton Abbey recently (some of you smile; some of you roll your eyes… I know). Three of the central characters who had experienced raw, unimaginable grief were sitting in a room together talking. It was just a simple conversation where they each recalled a moment filled with vivid love and joy in their lives. Even though those moments had passed, they stayed with each of them. They still brought them joy and made it all worth it in the midst of great sorrow. 

I hope you find peace and joy. I hope there's something, for you, that makes the world softer and more than just bearable. I guess snow symbolizes that for me. And while I am BEYOND ready for some sunshine and warmer weather after this extraordinarily cold winter we've had in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex, I'm sure I'll be waiting impatiently next winter if I haven't seen any snowfall by February.