I like the snow.

For most, the cascading creations of the clouds bring a feeling of gloominess.

They remind those who hope and yearn for warm temperatures all year long that the heat and happiness of the summer has passed; they depress the fall fanatic—but not me.

I like the snow.

I know that each year it is bound to come; each year the temperatures will inevitably drop, and we will find ourselves making our way through the ostensibly endless winter weather.

However, the fact that I know the snow will eventually fall never manages to ruin the surprise; each first snowfall is similar to the beautiful snowflakes that it brings in one respect: no two are the same.

Usually, the first course of snow barely covers the ground; the light blanket of white dissipates before any kids, prepped in their wool mittens and over-sized hats, are even able to scoop the delicate pieces into their hands.

The best first snowfalls provide fat, fluffy flakes and replace the green ground with their brilliant, bleached cover. Kids hike up their snow pants and compete to build the most sensational snowman, and when they take a break to drink their warm, replenishing hot chocolate—the snow is still there.

Snow in November may seem premature, but the feeling that encases me when I look out the window after a substantial snowstorm has passed stays constant; for me, the month in which it occurs is insignificant.

I like the snow.

Seeing my world covered in white, even if it’s only for a little while, makes me feel new. The cold, brisk air reminds me that I—like the temperature—am subject to change.

The snow brings me back to life and shows me that I don’t have to be consumed by the stress of always doing.

I can relax. 

I can sit back.

I can watch.

I don’t have to think to watch snow fall. I simply can.

Observation is a skill that I find myself losing every day. I get so lost in the process of thinking and doing that those rare opportunities that allow me to just observe feel so relieving.

Each snowflake has its own path, and while it falls, that is all that matters. 

Not me. Not school. Not stress. Only the snowflake.