Snow. That’s what I felt as I watched snowflakes waltz past my bedroom window. Some even skidded past my nose as they brushed the pane of glass separating my cosy bedroom from the -30 deg (with wind-chill) winter city outside.
I’m a winter baby… I was born on a very snowy day when it was -27 deg. I wonder if that has anything to do with why I’ve always had a soft spot for snow. It’s not that I wish to romanticize something that could as easily be a bane as it is a boon. It’s just that this past week, I’ve been watching every snowfall as if it is my last for a long while to come. For it may just be that… my last Toronto snowfall. And that knowledge makes each snowflake that wafts down from heaven just that much more delightful and precious.