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Now before you groan, oh shut up we’ve heard enough about snow this last week and now we’re all fed up of it, stick with me. I need to tell you I love snow.
I don’t know what it is. Okay, so I could relate it to being a child, when snow (however little where I lived) meant no school. Is there something about snow that is symbolic of a day of ultimate freedom and possibility? Does waking up and drawing back the curtains to see a white landscape open up a world of unthinkable potential for the child in me? Or maybe I just remember childhood skiing holidays with fond memories and the smell of snow on the air recalls a simpler time.
Whatever it is, there’s something about snow that makes me unbelievably happy. Whether I’m, sitting inside watching it fall in massive flakes of awesome; making snowmen, or just walking through it – there’s something about that creaking sound of the right kind of snow that puts a grin on my face.
And so last Wednesday was the perfect day.
I got up late, watched the snow blizzard down and then, when I’d built up enough courage, I ventured out into the garden. Even a snowball fight (that I normally dislike due to excessive amounts of snow ending up down my neck), being rugby-tackled into the snow and being locked out of the house by an amused housemate couldn’t put a damper on my mood. I was ridiculously happy, lying in the snow in my woolly dress and feeling the snowflakes on my face. I felt like I could do anything. Like that moment would last forever, with me being that happy. In the sheer laugh of the moment I could forget I had a horrific amount of seminar reading to do. I could forget that life wasn’t as simple as playing outside in the elements. It was peaceful. It was soothing.
It was fleeting; how could it be anything else?
That afternoon my best friend text me to say she was ill. Could I go and take her to the Health Centre?
And then, with an evil sense of irony, the temperature dropped by about 5 degrees and suddenly the snow wasn’t so fun anymore. The sense of peace shattered – to be replaced by the freezing reality, if you’ll excuse the choice of words.
Instead of the relaxed and laid back day I had envisioned, I ended up with soaking feet as a result of my many treks through the snow, and absolutely exhausted – both emotionally and physically. To top things off, the shops on campus had closed early due to the “adverse weather conditions” and I couldn’t get any food. That really pissed me off.
Perfect?
Well, actually, it worked out rather well.
Lack of food just gave me an excuse to get a Chinese.
Being so tired and cold made being snuggled up on the sofa with dry clothes and a blanket that much more awesome. If only my friend had gotten well, I could almost call it perfect.
Then I got to thinking: had the whole day been as wonderful as the beginning had been, would I have thought the end as fantastic?
In short, not a chance!
I needed the less-than-amazing moments in order to appreciate the awesomeness of the others.
It’s like snow. If it snowed all the time, I’d get so blasé about it. It wouldn’t be anything special at all. I’d even long for the snow to disappear (admit it, you’re fed up of it already).
I don’t want to get blasé about being happy.
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