The snow piles up, making mounds deep enough to swallow your foot. Cars cut lines and make soft swooshing noises, like boats on still water. You can almost hear the individual flakes land. Everything feels better, tastes better, and sounds better during those first winter snows. The warmth of a heater wraps the body like a clean blanket. The heat of a drink soothes. Children's laughter has a brightening effect on the mind. Lights twinkle and remind the viewer of life.
Walkers bury their hands deep in pockets, pull their jackets close, lift their shoulders, brace against the cold, tuck their chins. Passing each other on the street they smile, and mean it. A stranger asks for directions, he's new to this part of town and is looking for a diner. He made plans to meet friends, but has lost his way. A couple going in same general direction offers guidance. The three get to talking, laughs are shared. The kindness is honest.
A pair of siblings, cozy in their pajamas, watch the swaying curtains of falling snow. They O-oh and A-ah, their eyes wide with wonder. They were told to sleep, but this is the first real snow they've seen. Finding sleep is impossible when such wonder and beauty is right outside.
The quality of quiet that follows a year's first real snow dances on that border between magical and real. Like hot cocoa peppermint steam, the wriggling body of a puppy, or a mother's embrace. There's hidden warmth in those moments of stillness.