The Christmas St. Louis never had

Monday night, I came out of Philosophy of Education to find the quad powdered lightly with snow here and there. Haha, I said to myself, knowing what everyone knew. In the morning, all that would remain would be the slightly warmer apres-neige weather.

Wrong. St. Louis woke up to a world of white — and I’m trying very hard not to sound like a cheesy holiday children’s book here. What we were even less prepared for was the stuff that kept fluttering down from the sky. Then started pouring. And pouring. By the end of the day, there was probably about 5-7 inches of snow smothering all visible outdoor surfaces. Facebook statuses from all over campus welcomed the weather. People ran out for snow fights. But truth be told, I thought it was hell. Apparently, shovelling snow from the major walkways first means that the smaller walkways get shovelled not second, but never. Slip, slop, splat — right on the face. Almost, anyway, on more occasions than one. It was cold. It was wet. So I felt miserable.

To make things worse, I had to go on campus the next day for a meeting. I was not looking forward to another slippery, flippery wet trek on a day I did not have class. And like usual, I woke up late and rushed out the door. I power-walked as fast as my short little legs could carry me.

The faculties of the human brain will never cease to amaze me. Because as I was concentrating on minimizing the distance between my feet and the ground as much as possible, squinty-eyed and jiggly-cheeked Hiro style, I saw something else. The campus was all aglitter. The snow, in fact, looked pretty. It wasn’t grey (yet) or gloomy or somber. It made everything shimmer in the early afternoon sun. And all of the sudden, it felt like the Christmas season we didn’t have time to enjoy between a late Thanksgiving and winter break.

Then I felt very disappointed in myself. The angle of the sun threw formidable shadows behind scraggly trees. The wind had blown some snow into precarious waves that somehow haven’t collapsed. The dome-shaped caps on the little benches, the grassy ledges, and even the trash can lids were adorable. So many sights to see and so many frames to shoot — and, of course, I had left my all-new, 14.7 megapixel love of a camera at home. After the batteries died within a whole sixty seconds of making its debut at a dinner over the weekend.

But despite it all, I wasn’t whining. I wasn’t lamenting angrily about the cold in my head. I wasn’t wishing for spring to come with all my might (with more squinting eyes and jiggly cheeks). That in itself was quite the miracle, and rather shocking upon realization. And as always, I at least had my camera phone. Whew.

So even though we’re in the middle of getting through the worst of it — dirty slush, wet streets, dripping buildings — I’m surprisingly content. I secretly feel a little festive. That might sound latecoming and trivial, but with a semester of 10am-6:30pm days I’m taking nothing for granted. It finally feels like Christmas and smells like Sweet Violet. (Yankee Candle sale from Bed Bath & Beyond clearance. More details on the new candle obsession to come.)