The First Snow

The snow started falling in blissful patterns. Lightly then harshly. Flakes then puffs. As I walked outside I could feel the chill of the morning creep upon me. I could see the puffs of my breath. Winter was here and along with it came the first snow fall of the season. I bundled my coat tighter and rubbed my hands together forcing more circulation into them. I got into my car and turned the heat on high. As I drove off to work the sun's bashful beams came timidly from behind a cloud that looked as though it was made up from thousands upon thousands of the purest snowflakes.

By the time that I had reached my office the snow was glistening with the sun upon it. I was awestruck by this. All I could do was stare out my office window.

That was when I realized it. The snow was so peaceful compared to this chaotic world. In a world where wars rage and people fight, where people die at the hands of their peers, where we lose dears ones to diseases with no cure, where children's parents neglect them so much they must beg for food, where people, good people, lose their jobs because the company can't afford to pay them anymore. And then there's snow.

The snow comes and goes as it pleases. It doesn't need worry about the little things the we humans do everyday. It's blissfully happy as it is. There was a time, I'm sure of it, when we were, too, like the snow. Maybe centuries ago, but what changed? What happened to make us like we are now? Blood thirsty, power seeking, money greedy, people? Not that all of us are that way, of course.

So what does the snow represent to me? It represents hope that one day we will return to being like the snow and all wars will end along with all fights. Maybe one day we need not fret over the little things and rejoice over the important things.

Why do I feel this way?

Because snow brightens our world.

Maybe one day we will be snow.



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