The First Snow of Winter

The first snow of winter is magical. It’s funny how something as simple as snow, can transform an ordinary place into a winter wonderland. I was four, the first time I saw snow in person. It had been snowing all day and when it finally stopped, my mom bundled me up to the point where only my eyes were showing, and took me to Boston Common. I had never seen a place look so heavenly and perfect. The snow was clean, untouched and blanketed the entire Common. I slowly marched through the snow to the center of the common; stood there for a minute staring at everything sparkling in the light of the setting sun; and then collapsed with joy. I had never felt so pleased with nature in my life. The idea that something so plain could make anything appear pure, no matter how impure it was, astonished me. As I lay in the snow, I felt like nothing could touch me. All my problems slipped away and time stood still. I was a stranger to peace, but in that single moment we had become life long friends.
Of course, as I grew older I stopped playing in the snow. Life became hectic, and people considered a grown woman rolling around in snow, unlady-like. However, despite all this, I never forgot my first encounter with the ‘white stuff’. No matter how crazy life became, I always made time to enjoy the first snow of the season, and all the feelings that came along with it. And when life felt unbearable, I would just recall my memory, and suddenly everything didn’t seem so bad anymore. I could just feel that carefree inner peace again.