Submitted by Grace Ostrosky, a Denison University student
Late Sunday night, as I was walking home from the library, it snowed. It was not a blizzard, but I was unprepared, wearing only a thin sweatsuit. I pulled the hood over my head and sent a video to my mom.
“It’s snowing! Is it snowing at home?” I asked her.
I shivered as I swiped into my residence hall, wiping my shoes on the mat.
The snow will stop, I told myself. It’s too early for the snow to start.
When my alarm went off early the following morning, my roommate pulled the blinds upward and turned to me. She smiled and said, “Look outside, it’s a winter wonderland.”
The sun had barely risen, but I could see soft snowflakes falling, not yet sticking to the pavement, but lining tree branches and coating leaves.
I readied myself and bundled up for the crisp breeze that would inevitably nip at my fingers and ears with gloves from my mother and a hat borrowed from a friend. I drew in a breath as I stepped outside.
As I walked to my morning shift with the rising sun before me, I observed the snow, which seemed to sparkle and glisten, despite the grass poking through. The trees, whose red and orange leaves had barely fallen off, were coated with a thin layer of snow.
The snow wouldn’t stick. I knew that. The first snow never sticks. By the afternoon, the snow will be melted and the grass will be muddy and wet leaves will sag from their trees.
But for now, the view was beautiful and, despite the cold, I was content.
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