As the first flake of snow fell on his nose that evening, he could feel his entire body jolting with excitement. It was snowing in the city centre and everyone was thrilled. Perhaps a little too much, acting as if no-one had ever seen snow before and posting it all over social media. It wasn’t that strange a happening. It was winter and it was snowing.
No matter how many times he had seen snow before, he would always feel that same rush once the snowflakes began to fall, like cotton balls gently dropping from the sky. Everything seemed calmer and more silent when there was snow. And there was something so much more magical going to bed or waking up to a city dressed in white.
What he loved most was the white lumps gathering on the trees. They were usually among the last to dissolve in the morning sun and added a different sort of wintery glow to an otherwise routine stroll around the city.
No matter the years that passed, he would still rush to the window to see if the snowfall was continuing, and would often refuse to go to bed unless it stopped snowing, anxious to see how thick the white carpet would get.
It didn’t matter how old or young you were after all. What mattered was that you enjoyed those small, often seemingly insignificant, moments in life that make you feel grateful to be alive.