December 8, 2017. Today is the day my best friend’s dad passed away.
As I stepped out my front door this morning, bundled in my fleece-lined, fur-hooded coat and trusty black combat boots, a magical sight greeted me: Frosted trees, sugar-dusted rooftops, powdery sidewalks. ‘Twas the first snow in eight years. It was as if I had stepped into Narnia– anything seemed possible, and the day itself possessed an enigmatic quality.
Breathing in the clean air and capturing the vignette through my camera lens, I forgot the usual hustle and bustle of Friday mornings– the thought of tardiness not once crossing my mind and the expediency of daily routine diminished. Today was an exception. Today, there was snow.
The snow, soft when sprinkled and firm when packed, stung my fingers with its cold and warmed my heart with its potential. Snow means winter. Snow means Christmas. Snow means singing. Snow means hot chocolate. Snow means cuddles. Snow means reunion. Snow means surprise. Snow means delight.
However, snow, despite all the joy and beauty it bestows on the world, is not meant to last forever– not in Houston, Texas anyways. Here in the morning and gone by the afternoon, Houston snow must be stored in pixels and preserved in memory. It must not be forgotten because it will be a while until we see it again. It must be experienced in all its fullness and appreciated with unhindered expression before the gently beaming sun makes it glimmer, sparkle, and disappear.
December 8, 2017. The first snow in eight years.
From this year onward, every time I see snowflakes floating down from above, I will remember. I will remember him, and I will treasure all the people I love. I will remember that life is short, precious, and meaningful, and I will grab hold of every moment I spend breathing. I will remember that life is joyous and beautiful, and I will preserve every memory that I make.
As the ephemeral snow, life is full of love, delight, joy, magic, and possibility. As the ephemeral snow, cold and warmth come hand in hand. As the ephemeral snow, we can praise our God even with silence. As the ephemeral snow, called away by the rising sun, we also will one day return home to our Father above. As the ephemeral snow…