I landed in the USA in my early twenties on January 1, stepping into a country entirely new to me. The cold was immediate and unforgiving. That first winter, I wasn’t eager to see historical monuments or famous natural sites. What I longed for was snow.
Waiting in anticipation…
When would I finally get to stand in a white landscape? I wondered. This was not for an “Insta-worthy moment”, as one might say today. I’m talking about 1992, long before Instagram even existed and way before the very idea of a photo-sharing app had taken shape. My wish was simple: to capture the moment through the lens of a camera and send the photograph to my family in India.
We were in a small city nestled in one of the southern states of the US, so snowfall was rare. Nearly twelve months passed before it finally arrived. When it did in December, it came as a gift: a true white Christmas. My joy knew no bounds, for it was the first time I had ever truly felt snow.
A Basket of Winter Memories
I have never lived in a place where it snows every winter. Yet woven carefully with a plethora of emotions and feelings, I have accumulated a collection of snow stories in my mind over more than three decades. The beauty of a pristine, breathtaking white landscape is unparalleled, and every time my eyes take in that sight, I marvel at the wonders of nature.
With tenderness I cherish memories of playing in the snow with my child, building a snowman, and watching his face beam with pure happiness. I vividly remember one winter when my parents were visiting and it snowed. Bundled in layers of warm clothing, they posed for photographs with their little grandchild. That was my father’s last visit to our home.
There were also times when we wished for the snow to melt, hoping it would make life easier.
I recall a snowstorm from 2014 when all activity in the city and suburbs came to a standstill; people were stranded in countless places. For my husband, a drive home from work that usually took thirty minutes stretched into six long hours. The roads were badly frozen, slowing traffic for miles, as every car had to be driven with the utmost caution.
Something Still Fresh: A Weekend Ago
After my reminiscences of the yesteryears, I turn to a more recent happening. The simplest of verbal exchanges with a loved one can play a merry tune in the mind and reinforce one’s faith that kindness and empathy can make the world a better place.
We were greeted by snow last weekend. While some parts of the city received plenty, our share was rather miserly, not enough to build a snowman. That wasn’t much of an issue, though, as the adult offspring no longer has the age nor interest to play outside. Still, the snow showers were powerful enough to freeze sections of the driveway.
Icicles formed on the grass, for temperatures never rose high enough to melt the water droplets before they froze. Driven by the wind, flurries swept onto the porch and created quite a mess, earning cleanup duty a spot on our to-do list.
Chilly weather always calls for something spicy. Human beings on this planet have grown so accustomed to pampering, or rather spoiling, their taste buds that food is always a top priority. We decided to make puris and aloo sabji and enjoyed a delicious lunch. After the intake of high calories, I dozed off while a music program played on the television.
When I woke up in the evening, the question that popped into my mind was, “What’s for dinner?”
My better half, being the ever-accommodating person, chirped, “Anything’s fine for me!”
Our son, the foodie in the house, was deep in contemplation. A certain tiredness, mainly compounded by laziness, made me rather unwilling to cook anything exotic. The roads were not in great condition for driving either. We explored the option of using Uber Eats to get something tasty from outside.
The consensus was almost reached when the younger man said, “Actually, a thought came to my mind. I’m thinking about the delivery person. I would hate for someone to go out in this nasty cold to bring us our order while we stay warm indoors eating something special. It doesn’t make me feel good. Let’s fix something ourselves.”
I don’t know where a sudden burst of energy came from, but I felt enthusiastic enough to head to the kitchen. It was a very simple dinner, but we ate happily and enjoyed it.
A little after 10 PM, I momentarily opened the door leading to the porch to check its condition. A frozen layer coated the cushions, and the area rug was lightly whitened. The cold air ruthlessly cut through my skin, and I stepped back inside immediately. Opening the weather app, I saw that the temperature was minus 7 degrees Celsius.
A numbness had crept into my fingers. What a mistake it was to even think of going out. I reflected on the conversation I’d had with my son a few hours earlier about the delivery person. His words rang in my ears. In the bitter cold of the night, I felt a small, unexpected warmth; it was a gentle flutter in my heart.
rashmi writes 