CHAPTER FIFTEEN: It's Coming Down
Fresh glints of snow paved the streets as I walked about town. Autumn had quickly passed, much to my dismay. I hated winter. I wasn't fond of the cold months that seemed to drag by like years, and I couldn't see the magic and beauty of winter that so many others did.
I didn't always hate winter. In fact, when I first moved to America, I was enthralled by it. I'd never seen snow before in my life, so of course, I was fascinated by the soft blanket of pure white that carpeted the city. I was spellbound by the different feeling of Christmas in America versus Christmas in Australia. The warm embraces were the same, but in America, they were literally needed to contrast with the cold weather.
Oh, how I loved the winter months. I used to sit outside every morning, drinking a cup of hot chocolate and watching the snow float down. I'd even make snow angels and snowmen with my friends. Winter was always a time of peace and reflection for me, a time that I looked forward to every year. But over time, along with my happiness, faith, and hope, I lost my love for winter.
I began dreading December. I didn't want to reflect on my life; I didn't want to see how happy others were. The sound of merry caroling hurt my ears, the sight of blissful children hurt my eyes, and the overall essence of love and peace hurt my heart like nothing else.
I envied those people who could be as happy about winter as I once was. I hated them, and I almost embraced those emotions just to prove that winter didn't erase bad feelings; it just denied them for a while.
Sometimes I'd just want to scream, "Winter is the end of things, the season of death and darkness! It's not a time for happiness and renewal. Don't you people see that!" I didn't ever say that even though I believed it to be true. I knew that no one would listen to me anyway. Why would they? They were perfectly content in their make-believe joy.
So there I was, walking around Princeton, hands shoved into the pockets of my jacket. I started thinking back to when I loved winter. When it was a time of splendor for me. I sat down on a bench to think when a familiar song flooded into my mind.
Snowflakes fall like velvet
From iron-colored skies
Somehow I can't help it
I feel my spirits rise
Streetlamps aglow
Time to take it slow
It's coming down
Crystal branches glisten
Like diamonds over me
Frozen in position
A silent symphony
Sidewalks white and clean
Perfect and pristine
It's coming down
It's coming down
And all my blues disappear
And
this old town is up again
Grew back the years
Because the world
looks like new
Or at least that's the view
From here, from here
It's cold here by the river
But I don't feel it much
The moon's a silver sliver
Close enough to touch
Storm clouds drift away
A star comes out to play
It's coming down
It's coming down.
I used to love that song. I used to listen to it over and over as I watched the snow, a serene and purely happy smile on my face. I used to see the beauty of winter more clearly than anyone. I used to feel the magic winter in my heart. I used to understand the importance of a time for quiet harmony, abundant love, and shared happiness. I used to love winter. But not anymore.