Today is the second day of snowfall.
There’s something captivating about snow. I’ve always been fascinated by the countless poets and religious texts that obsess over a mere layering of the ground as a metaphor for purity. To me, at least lately, the snow has meant nothing but pure discomfort as I scramble from building to building trying to go to class. It makes walking to dinner an even more difficult endeavor for a lazy fellow such as I. And it also doesn’t help me to think that the color “white” alone is a symbol for purity, but that is an entirely different conversation.
But I’ve really been appreciating the snow. And stop me if I’m wrong here, but I think I’m starting to get what makes all these poets excited.
The very first snowfall is so pure. It’s so lush outside–hardly a sound can be heard, unless you are intentional with noisemaking. Feeling the snow gently crumble underneath your boots makes one feel as though they are on a cloud! Yes, I realize this all sounds silly. And a little melodramatic. But snow, fresh snow, glimmering crisply and caking everything around you, is beautiful. And you don’t realize how beautiful it is until it’s been around for a couple a days. Until muddy footprints stain the snow. Until rain comes by and moves it around. Until the snow darkens and becomes slick as wind turns it to ice.
Once several days had passed, and the previously welcome entity became little more than a brown, gushy annoyance, I had lost all appreciation for snow. I was sick of it and wanted it to go away. And then, this morning, on the second snowfall, snow fell again and covered the brown, gushy snow once more. Throughout the day I watched the footprints disappear and the color steadily turn brighter.
I thought about getting mildly philosophical here, offering some sort of Sunday Sermon-punchline for everyone to go on about their lives with. But sometimes I think that we all read a little bit too much into everyday things.
So, rather than leaving everyone with something that they can instantly relate to, connect with, or place inside a fortune cookie, I would like to leave you with the joy found in renewal. The ordinary beauty found in fresh snowfalls. And it is for this that I am thankful. In renewal I see many things dear and personal to me. What do you see in renewal? In the disappearance of slush? What I am trying to say is that,
What are you thankful for today?
It’s good to be back, by the way. I’ve missed writing.