It’s November, yet the snow hasn’t arrived. The weather plays tricks, warm one day, icy the next. Somehow, I find comfort in its unpredictability; it mirrors how I’ve felt these past few months.
I bundle up anyway, setting out for my walk to the bus stop. A late class awaits me on campus. I am carrying only the essentials: my phone, bag, and headphones. I open the door and step outside, beginning my journey.
Have you ever felt like no one truly knows who you are? I often wonder if anyone can truly love me if they don’t even know the real me. Over the summer, I grew to be reserved, withdrawing into myself. As the seasons changed, I became someone I barely recognized, almost as if I was preparing for the cold weather.
Sadness is now an emotion I carry, eagerly awaiting the snow.
Who am I? I wonder as I pass by the park, gazing at the playground as if a younger me might appear, laughing on the swings or climbing the jungle gym, ready to tell me exactly who I am.
Little droplets of snow drift down, almost mocking me for what could have been a proper snowfall. How easy it would be, I think, for snow to pour down in November and vanish just as quickly by December.
A flicker of hope stirs within me; if the snow comes now, won’t the sun shine brighter, hotter, and sooner?
Hope is everywhere if you look for it. It hides in the small, quiet things: the warmth of sunlight breaking through gray skies, the sound of your own breath, the rhythm of your footsteps on the pavement.
I glance at my phone and text back my friends. They’re happy to hear from me, asking how I’ve been and when we can meet. It’s all so simple, really, how a smile sneaks onto my face. The playlist shifts and a new song begins. I’ve made it to the bus stop.
I think there’s beauty in sadness. It gives us a deeper appreciation for joy when it finally comes. Life moves like the seasons, unpredictable and ever-changing. But maybe that’s where the beauty lies, in the contrast, in finding the light through the gray.
Have a little hope; snow is on its way, and after the snow comes the leaves, and eventually, the warm, beaming sun shines through.