The cold breath of winter wiggled its way down my coat. I felt my hands become cradled by tiny, icy needles. I place them under my thighs for warmth. The car smelled like it usually does, a calming family minivan. I turned the heat up, trying to expel the winter that touched me.
“Man, I hate the snow,” my mom said, brushing the snow off her puffer.
I nodded in agreement; I hate the cold, too.
My mom slowly puts the car in reverse and leaves the parking lot. She drives carefully, worried the fresh blanket will cause her tires to slide.
We began to discuss the snow. We laughed about the Wisconsinites who forget how to drive when snow falls. We sang Christmas songs, the only good part of winter. We fought about the best part of summer.
And then it happened. The winter wind became powerful and blew snow in our direction. My mom became anxious and turned the music off, focusing on whatever she could see.
I should’ve been worried, at least a little, but I wasn’t. I watched as the snow created a tunnel around our car. The headlights reflected onto the snow, contrasting the dark winter night. It looked like the Star Wars movies where they fly across the universe.
My mom drove us home slowly, but she wasn’t slow enough. I wanted to continue gazing at the icy tunnel of snow. It was like hypnosis, drowning me in a sea of emptiness. Comfortable emptiness. I didn’t think, didn’t talk, didn’t move; I just relaxed.
Winter became pretty that day. Although Winter is cold and bites, I saw what I never thought I would see. The snow was angelic and calming; I had never felt more at ease. Maybe I do like the wintertime…
No, that’s silly.