…an old friend

Đôi khi tôi nghĩ tuyết rơi chỉ cho mình tôi…tôi biết đó là ý nghĩ rất trẽ con. Nhưng đôi khi đó là điều tốt. Vui chơi trên bờ tuyết… có thế chạy nhảy quên đi những gì ác tối trên đời…đưỢc trở về lúc ngây thơ …chưa biết tơi những điều đen tối của đời … tôi nghĩ đó là một phước lành trời ban

…lâu lắm rồi không gặp được bạn cũ…những hạt tuyết trắng…cảm giác này xinh đưng bỏ đi…

To deviate from my usual artsy/design-sy talk, I want to have a heart to  heart. It may seems childish but I feel that when the snow falls it is God’s present to me. To be brutually honest, that thought even seems selfish. Snow to me brings back a more miraculous memory.I remember living in Southeast Asia. There were no snow. California was the same. It seems like there was always something tugging at my heart…I want to see snow. I want to know what’s it’s like to walk in the snow, to play in the snow, and so much more. I prayed to God, My God, this little child of yours wishes more than anything to see snow. Is it childish to think that God made all occurences that followed to take me to see snow?My family moved to Massaschusetts a few months later. The events that led to the move was unfortunate, but I got my wish.

 I remember my first snow fall. My family spent hours in the park white with snow. We took quite a few pictures. The feeling was unforgettable.

Imagine that you just wake up from a pleasant slumber. The blanket is warm but there is a frosty feeling somewhere. You venture out to the window and below you is a world covered in a blanket of white. The small crystal flakes shimmer reflecting whatever source of light.

 I can never forget the feeling it gives me.

 I had a chance to feel it again. It snowed quite a lot just earlier this week. The road was unfit to drive my fiance’s old 1985 Volvo stationwagon. We walked. We walked down the street into a little center to get  dinner. That dreamy feeling returned. Feeling each snowflake hit my face was like a frosty welcome of a friend.

No matter where I go or what I experience, that feeling, that certain floaty, dreamy feeling that I get from seeing and being amid a snow fall is incomparable. Nothing, save maybe a walk in the rain, gives me that feeling. Even then, the two feeling is a little different. It’s inviting, almost sirenous.

I come to Denver to see snow again and to experience that feeling again. Still, I’m robbed of my white Christmas. It is my decision to fly back to California to see my family for the holidays, but somehow I still feel cheated, like someone is play a twisted joke on me. We can’t have everything in life…I know that all too well. I am still happy to be able to see my dear old friend.





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