It’s a brisk Wednesday morning in January, and my sister and I are walking to school. Bundled in layers soon to be shed like the shells of a nesting doll, we pretend we can see our breath fogging in front of us, we pretend that it isn’t above freezing.
We pretend there’s a blizzard incoming, and soon our little neighborhood in Atlanta will be covered in snow and smoke will be drifting from every chimney like steam wafting above a mug of hot cocoa.
These are all wistful ideas though — Atlanta doesn’t usually get cold enough to snow, let alone freeze.
Growing up in the South, cold winters were rare. Should the warm Georgia weather dare to dip below freezing, my sister and I would race outside with buckets of water, trying to make an ice rink or a sledding ramp.
Days with actual snow were few and far between — though not for a lack of trying, I’d spend nights with my snoopy pajamas inside out and a spoon under my pillow, hoping and praying for at least a flurry.
Back home, it seemed like the majority of the people I knew shared this sentiment of a need for real winter, not just 40 degree weather and the occasional icy roads warning.
Moving to Chicago, however, I was met with pushback from my midwestern friends.
“The cold is terrible,” they told me. “You’ll hate it soon enough.”
This particular idea was baffling to me. How could I hate one of the most magical times of the year? How could my friends think of snow and not be excited?
The problem is evident: too many people are used to the cold weather, leaving them space to only really consider the negative aspects of it. The solution? We all need to start thinking of winter from a bright, new perspective.
The first most common complaint of the winter season is, of course, the temperature. But really, what’s cold weather if not an opportunity to wear our coziest sweaters and coats? Without frigid temperatures, there would be no joy in curling up with a hefty wool blanket or thick socks.
Additionally, the first hit of cold air after stepping outside of a warm building is nothing short of magical. Not to mention, the feeling of peeling off winter layers like some sort of weird, freezing onion and letting the heat settle into your bones is near therapeutic.
Without cold weather, there also wouldn’t be cold weather activities. Yearly, Millennium Park boasts a skating ribbon around The Bean, just waiting for eager skaters to try their luck sliding across the ice.
Back in Georgia, outdoor skating rinks are populated with small melted puddles and skaters trudging through the slush in short sleeve shirts. The humid air is barely enough to warrant a sweatshirt, let alone a cable-knit sweater.
The most coveted aspect of the season for children from warmer areas is the snow. Often, I would dream of icicles hanging off eaves and heaps of powdery snowflakes, untouched but holding the potential for a good snowball fight.
Yes, eventually the snow will become a chore, something to shovel and melt, but can we pretend for at least a little we haven’t seen snow in years, and frolic like children again?
I’m aware of the threat of the pristine, glimmering blankets of snow becoming mush and sludge, but what’s the harm in enjoying it while it lasts?
And finally, when the snow has deteriorated into opaque, muddy puddles, there’s still excitement in the enchanting nature of winter. There’s the draw of staying warm, of holding a hot mug of tea and curling up with a book in front of a fireplace or heater.
Not all of winter has to be spent outside, and sometimes the most exciting option is simply enjoying the little things, like being happy to be inside after a long commute, or the warmth of a building with the occasional cold gust from a door blown open by the wind.
This winter doesn’t have to be miserable, it doesn’t even have to be uncomfortable. If we took a step back and looked at what has the possibility to be a dreadful and frigid season with a renewed sense of childlike joy and excitement, we’ll find that winter is beautiful, even in the parts where it seems like a pain.
A parting tip: save this article to re-read come February.