Snow Stories

I truly can't look away. The snow is breathtaking. There is so much beauty in snow. It’s so pure. It’s such a treat. Many would say that growing up in the South robs you of this experience. But, I would say that growing up in the South actually makes the experience of snow even better. Snow is so rare that it really is a treat whenever you get some. Snow always made me feel like I was a child again. And I think we all have our southern snow stories. Whenever it snows, we each pull from our memory our best snow tale. “Remember that time it snowed and …” Or “where were you for ‘Snowmageddon,’” as it was called in Atlanta. Oh, I love a good southern tale. But, I don’t get that here. There are too many snow stories in these parts. Snow is too common to be appreciated around here.

Truth be told, I probably look silly smiling and laughing as I look out the window. I haven’t seen this much snow since I was kid. Well, I mean that’s not true. I’ve never seen this much snow. Clearly, we don’t expect this type of thing in Georgia. And here I am, looking out at what I’ve always envisioned a winter wonderland would look like. It’s one right in my own backyard.

This move was a good one for me. Well, it seemed liked a really good idea to move. I really needed a change, or so I think. And this snow is pretty and all, but can I really get used to this weather? These southern bones like the warmth. Like I said, we have the occasional snow in the South, which is a spectacle, but for the most part it seems like it’s warm a good nine months of the year.

Man, if only my grandmother was here to see this. She loved snow. I still remember the picture of her. She had the biggest smile as she stood in out in the cold. She looked plenty warm in the middle of it all. There’s a good snow story for my mind. Memories…

Oh man, what if my dad was here? Well, actually he didn't like the snow that much. Not until he became a teacher at least. That's the funny thing about the South. If you're in education you love the snow. If there is any talk of flurries, you are practically already planning how you're going to spend your snow day. If you're not in education, it's likely that snow can seem more like a nuisance since you'll still be driving in it to and from work either way.

I should probably be home. Not home here, I should be back home. Home with family and friends. There is so much still there. So much undone… Why did I even come here? Why did I move? Why did I leave what I know? How can I be here? My family isn’t even here. What I know isn’t here. This isn’t me. I like comfort. I like familiarity. I like being in the box. How could I have given that up for something so uncertain at this moment? This is crazy.

Wait, what am I saying? I can handle this move. I can handle the distance. I can handle the weather. I made it this far. I saved and bought the house. I did it on my own. I’m already out of my comfort zone at this point, why try to find a reason to have failed at this new opportunity? That’s just like me. The first sign of even slight discomfort and I’m self-doubting. It takes one memory and I’m second guessing the future ahead.

I’m valid in my concern. This isn’t like my usual decisions in life. This new place isn’t like me at all. But wasn’t that the whole point. I needed as little of me as possible. I needed a big move, a big change. And before I talk myself out of it, I’m going to venture out today. That was the plan, and I’m sticking to it. Besides, what’s the point of relocating if I’m just going to stay at home the whole time?

I should get out. In fact, I need to get out. People like me need to get out of the house. Not because we want to, but because it’s too easy for us not to. It’s too easy for us to shrink and become reclusive. But then again, I’ve always liked a little seclusion. Let’s face it, I’ve always liked a lot of seclusion. Yes, this place was about a new beginning, but it was also about getting away. I can excuse my hermit-like tendencies when I’m new in town and don’t know anybody. I don’t have to make up a reason to avoid people, because I don’t know anybody to avoid.

Clearly, I’m all over the place. First, I’m missing people. Then, I’m thinking about the benefits of avoiding them. My thoughts are all over the place. Focus, focus. Accomplish something today. Your claim to fame cannot be that you moved from your hometown and stayed locked in a house for the rest of your life.

After all, you’re already dressed. Bundle up and get out of the house! Now.

Isn’t ironic? I’m staring at one of the clearest sights. A clear view of pure white snow and its simple beauty, yet my mind is anything but clear. It’s cluttered and cloudy.

Since when did it take so much motivation to leave? Not just to leave the house, but to leave home in general. Why did it take so long to move? I thought there was so much undone back home, but was there, really? I’m reflecting on stories and moments from years ago, but do I have anything more recent to celebrate than a 15-year old memory of my grandmother in the snow?

It’s time to start fresh, as fresh as the snow I see. It’s time to start anew with new memories made here. My old snow stories won’t suffice any more. I want new ones. And they will begin right now. My newest, will begin with me putting one foot in front of the other and out the door onto the cold frozen pavement. There awaits my best snow story yet.