I love the snow, but I hate being in it.

I find contentment in admiring the snow from afar, appreciating its beauty; I never get too close, for getting too close would cause it to become dirty and tainted by my footprints. Instead, I stand with my toes on the edge of my porch and watch the flakes fall, careful not to get too close, careful not to melt the new snow with my warm breath. 

Sometimes, I look up at the sky as the snow descends and the flakes land gently on my skin, the cool, soft prickles bring a smile to my face. Sadly the shimmering flakes never last. They melt and drip down like cold, salty tears past my frown that was once a smile.

I hate being in the snow. I hate the crunch my feet make as I walk across a new layer. I hate the unpleasant trail my shoes leave. I hate the dirty slush left behind by tires constantly trampling through it.

Despite my hatred for being in the pure snow, I wish to run through winter’s undisturbed fields, covered in sparkling powder. I wish the snow could stay pure forever despite the constant trampling by others.

I dream of treading across the snow without leaving a mark. I wish to be able to hold the snow without melting it in my hands. Despite my hopes and wishes, my dreams will never come true and the snow’s purity will eventually fade, no matter how cautious my approach is.

Despite the impending spring and inevitable slushy snow, I still tread cautiously in hopes of preserving it for as long as possible. But year after year, the purity of the snow diminishes more and more as life tramples across it. My efforts will never matter, the snow will always melt. 

Still, I watch from afar in the early hours before anyone else is awake; I watch the snow shimmer under the early morning moonlight, sparkles dancing across it. I watch it pile up in soft mounds that will get trampled later in the day by careless feet. I wish it could just be me and the graceful, dancing snow forever.

The most beautiful part about the snow, though, is when it descends in a blizzardy fashion, blinding everything in its way and letting its icy wind sting those who continue to tread across it. I watch the blizzard happily from my porch and I let the icy wind chill my face as snowflakes twirl around me in a whirlwind; if only I could dance in the silence with the snow forever.

Sorrowfully, the fighting blizzard can’t last forever. The winds will soon diminish and everyone will awaken once again to tread across its brand new layer. Then spring will arrive in a rush and the snow will disappear entirely, and I will never see that same pure winter again.