Warm Snow
For once, the cold didn't feel cold
Snow wasn't new to me. It had come every year, and every year I had looked at it through the same feeling — beautiful from the window, but cold the moment you stepped outside. I had never really found comfort in it. But this time, something was different. The snow was the same; I wasn't.
After the huge fight in 2019 and everything that followed, I had spent years carrying the feeling of a broken dream. Even when life kept moving, a part of me felt like it was still standing in that same place, trying to understand what had gone wrong. Winter always seemed to remind me of that feeling — cold, distant, and something I simply had to get through.
But this time, standing in the snow, I didn't feel cold in the same way. I actually felt comfortable. The air was freezing, but somehow I felt warm inside. I had landed a job, I was about to start something new, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like things were slowly finding their place.
That was the moment I realised the snow hadn't changed at all. I had. The same streets, the same winter, the same cold air — but I was looking at them from a completely different place in my life. What once felt like something I had to endure suddenly felt like something I could enjoy.
Maybe that's why I called it warm snow. Not because the snow was warm, but because I finally was. I had spent years trying to move on from a broken dream, and suddenly I had something new waiting for me. The past hadn't disappeared, but it had finally stopped feeling like my future.