second snow
today was the second, and perhaps last, meaningful snow of the winter. i woke up to white divots on the clay-tiled roof of the neighboring preschool; my heart perked up with excitement as it had three months ago during the first snow of the season.
an inquiring part of me wants to know: what has changed between the first and the second snow? how have i evolved, how am i wiser - am i any wiser? is my present experience affected by the fact that this snow is not a first but rather merely another snow, a blip in my memory of winters when i look back at some later point in life?
i stepped outside wearing knee-high rain boots because they seemed like the most weather-appropriate footwear. i was bursting with energy and momentum; i wanted to run down the sidewalk with my tongue sticking out in front of me like a divining rod, catching feathery snowflakes. i wanted to take pictures and send them to my mom and family in the U.S. and then, three giddy steps onto the concrete bricks outside the front door of our building, i felt myself slipping on the half-slush, already beginning its devolution towards rain, and a sudden lump of fear bubbled up in my throat. as i lifted my left and then my right foot vertically and set them back down, stomping like a duck in the mud, i remembered my acute fear of falling and a wave of embarrassment washed over me. i wondered if anyone, particularly any kid, was watching from their window and saw me standing there in my oversized rubber boots, taking millimeter-sized steps as i tried desperately to avoid falling.
a minute later, after i had taken a few deep breaths, steadied my footwork and made it down the sidewalk and around the street corner, i gasped in delight at a row of crystalline trees. i paused to snap a few photos for my family until i realized that they’d just experienced a series of snowstorms several magnitudes more intense than anything that’s passed through germany this winter, and so i decided to keep the photos to myself.
by the early afternoon, the precipitation had tapered off and receded from the surfaces of concrete, brick, clay, leaves and grass, first forming bulging puddles and then, eventually, sinking into a layer of slick film on top of the streets and sidewalks. the snow from this morning was already a bygone memory; a mere hiccup from mother nature as she stumbles towards spring.