Pretty things this week: Snow.

I step out of the warm halls of East Quad and into the chilly streets on my way to class. I pass countless faces, each asking the same question: “Why, why am I being pelted by sharp, cold daggers of snow?” I differ from these folks, my face upturned to the sky and a smile on my face. Big, fluffy flakes falling from the sky begin to create a temporary wonderland in the Diag. I live for the snow. Call me basic, but it seems as though something magical happens when it snows. I am not even talking about how with snow comes the jolliness of the holiday season. No, snow is its own event that promises a certain cozy quietness. Campus becomes a little quieter, the students a little puffier.

Snow is the assurance that, “Yes, Jackie, you should stay inside tonight. Don’t go trudging to that dirty party over on Hill St.” Snow gives the permission to indulge in that second caramel brulée latte because it’s cold. And, I suppose I would be lying if I claimed the snow doesn’t conjure up the excitement of the holidays. It’s acceptable to listen to Charlie Brown’s Christmas album and wear snowflake-covered onesies to bed. The snow is the key to all things cozy and all things soft.

So, as I fall up the treacherous slippery steps at the Michigan Union in my pursuit of the Queen of Cozy, Starbucks, I don’t look to the snow gods and curse them, for this is only a small token I must pay for the feeling we all will get at least once while going to school in Michigan: the feeling of the first snow and all that it promises.

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