A love-hate relationship

       I have been in this country for a while now and am used to the snow. Or so I tell myself. About a decade ago, when my flight landed in Chicago and I was rushing to catch my connecting flight to Minneapolis, I remember a brief chat I had with this gentleman while waiting for the air train. He was elderly and had a cheerful demeanor that I still remember to this day. I was fresh off the boat and had been traveling for 16 hours with another 1.5 hours to go. I presume I was getting a little antsy which he sensed, standing a few inches from me and said the following  in a rather deep, yet silvery voice “Where are you headed to Miss? I hope somewhere warm!” And when I mentioned my destination, he broke into this hearty laugh and said “Oh my, you better bundle up nice!” We exchanged a few more words before I got up on the train and a short flight later, I felt the reason for his “Oh my!” as a -15F wind and a blanket of snow welcomed me in Minneapolis.

   I have both loved and hated winter time. I still harbor the same feelings. Once I settled in, I was enamored by the ‘magical winter wonderland feel’ but that passed soon, and the reality of having to dress up in a gazillion layers while running on ice to catch the bus settled in. And whoever has been in that situation knows well that it is not a fun one! I have hated when the heater in our student apartment broke and I have hated when the tires of our car kept spinning in the ice, refusing to move. I have hated every time we have fallen on black ice and that one time when the car skid and hit a pole on the sidewalk, leading to a badly damaged bumper (which we had to tape up later and keep it that way till it could be fixed!). I have hated 7.45 am classes and classes that got over at 8 pm. But I have loved being with my husband and getting to know him a bit more everyday, sharing our likes and dislikes. I have loved living our own life, sharing our hopes and dreams, living our truth. I have loved white Christmas. I have loved laughing and spinning memories with good friends in front of a beautiful fire place. I have loved walking with my husband on his birthday along this ‘picture postcard beautiful’  lane, dotted with twinkly lights, as the snow fell silently around us. I have loved making a snowman for the first time and I have loved watching the snow fall at wee hours and they have soothed my eyes that were tired from trying to finish assignments. This love-hate relationship with the snow that started in Minneapolis about a decade ago, has been rather special and continues to this day as we spend our ninth winter here in New Jersey. Challenges are different and so are the joys. I still love the first snowfall of the season and am still in awe at the captivating silence when it falls. We have little ones now and the sight of snow fills the older one with an amusement and wonder that only kids are capable of feeling! I remember the first time he walked on snow as if it was yesterday. There was awe and pure joy in that, and a bliss to watch. The other day, he held his baby sister tightly and they watched the first snowfall of the season together. I watched them and added the moment to my pocketbook of memories.

 

 

 

 

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Thanks for stopping by. Wherever you are, I hope you are adding memories to your pocketbook too.

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