Let It Snow

For most people that come from tropical countries, snow is a concept as foreign as your identity. Like me, some are fortunate to have witnessed this phenomenon before. I was seven when I first saw snow on the foothills of the Himalayas and that was perhaps one of the happiest moments I can remember.

This made me persistent to encounter that memory again and influenced my decision when it came to choosing colleges. To a small part of my subconscious, a lot of snow meant unlimited happiness.

The first time it snowed in Syracuse, I was asleep. Having missed something that I had spent years looking forward to, made me a little bit sadder. Things seemed as bleak as the grey winter sky that morning.

I couldn’t wait for it to snow again.

Growing up in one of the hottest countries in the world is not enough practice to survive the winters in Syracuse. I’ve lived in Mumbai, India almost all my life, and living through the summers there was incredibly difficult. I’ve been fascinated by the cold. I would dream of, one day, living in a place where every Christmas is a “White Christmas”.

Then I came to Syracuse. I was nervous about all the new experiences coming my way. Apprehension often goes hand-in-hand with excitement. The people I encountered in and outside Syracuse managed to instill some fear about the how harsh the winters can be here. Autumn itself was starting to feel too cold and I started to doubt my ability to withstand a real winter.

I started to miss the warmth. Little by little, my anticipation for the winter started turning into dislike for the cold. I thought I may have overestimated how much I could endure it. The lead up to the first actual snowfall I witnessed was an emotional conflict. I feared winter now. It was harsh, the snow made me slip and everything just seemed a little bit miserable.

But seeing snowflakes fall from the sky for the first time made me realize I had been clubbing snowfall with winter. Snowfall was far from brutal winter winds. It was gentle. Every snowflake was unique, softer than you would imagine. It was magnificent, and ever so peaceful.

It was then that I knew why this simple phenomenon had enthralled poets and writers alike. I have been envious of people that grew up experiencing snow, and yet I pity the ones that will never again experience snowfall for the first time again. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life and while I may still be apprehensive about winter, I will always love the snow. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.