Now that winter is nearly over, the harsh weather seems gone. The trees are showing promise, the chirping of the birds is audible, the days are longer, and the heart merrier. The temperature here on the East Coast is still fluctuating. Some days we wake up to a relatively warm day while other days compel the call of the jackets and gloves. It’s a mix and match I would say.
It was a recent visit to a brunch outing when we experienced a snowstorm. Last year in Chicago we had witnessed the deadly Polar Vortex, so we’ve kind of seen the worst. We knew it was a snowy day ahead of us, but this sudden snowstorm was intense. It lasted a while, and we had just hit the road when it started. Within a matter of moments, everything was covered in snow and raining ice. We were stuck in a traffic jam, as obviously the roads had been hit hard, piling up cars and slowing traffic.
I kept on looking at the storm outside. It raged, it poured, it lashed, it screamed. I looked at the places, the people, the cars, the houses all getting enveloped in white layers in seconds. There was a certain beauty to the raging snowstorm. The beauty of the silence. The beauty of the chaos. It did wreak havoc on everything all around till it lasted, but because I was inside the car, I could look at it calmly and feel a sense of beauty in it. There seemed a pristine silence in the storm, a sense of stillness, a sense of solitude.
It took us some time to get going as the traffic dispered slowly, and by the end of it, my husband looked at me and asked me why was I smiling. I thought to myself, I saw a snowstorm.