Day 126 — A Whisper of Snow, A Glimpse of Hope
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Snow echoes at the very depth of my soul. To be in it, around it, a part of it. To be one with the snow has been the very reason I moved north—to find a calmness, a beauty, an unspoken connection. “The thousands of little diamonds that sparkle in the sun.” To say I miss the snow would be an understatement.
A little over three years ago, I moved north to embrace that magic. My first winter there was extraordinary—the beauty of the mountains, the crisp serenity of snow-covered landscapes. It all felt like home, like a piece of my soul had been waiting there all along. Then came last winter, and with it, the accident. Trapped inside, unable to experience the very thing that had drawn me there, I found myself angry, bitter even. The snow fell outside while I built walls within walls, shutting out the beauty I so deeply craved.
For so long, I refused to admit I needed help. I told myself I was fine, convinced I didn’t need anyone, that asking for help meant surrender. But then September came, and with it, clarity. One morning, I woke up and felt it as sure as the rising sun: I couldn’t do this alone. Defeat rolled down my face in silent tears, but I picked up the phone and made the call that changed everything. I wasn’t just leaving behind a dream; I was letting go of a part of myself that I had clung to for far too long. Heading home felt like giving up, like abandoning the very essence of what made me, me. Winter was just around the corner, and I knew I would miss it again.
Since coming back south, I’ve looked for meaning in everything, hoping to make sense of this journey. Growing up in Louisiana, I rarely saw eagles, but in the north, they were my companions—symbols of strength and freedom. Oddly enough, I’ve seen more eagles here in these past few months than I’ve seen in my entire life. It’s as if they’re reminding me: take care of yourself. We’ll be here when you’re ready to return.
Down here, snow is a rarity—an event spoken of more than experienced. I can recall only two fleeting encounters with it growing up, and even then, it was more ice than snow. But today, of all days, snow has come south. It’s as if the snow followed me, whispering to me from the skies, carrying a message: “We’re waiting for you. Don’t lose hope.”
How can I see this as anything but a sign? A reminder that even in the deepest winters of our lives, hope remains. The snow brings with it a glimpse of tomorrow’s promise, a reassurance that the beauty I’ve been missing is not lost—it’s waiting, just as I’ve been.
I don’t know how not to see hope in this moment. I don’t know how not to love her, the person who’s inspired so much of my journey. But more than that, I don’t know how to love myself… not yet. But perhaps that’s what the snow is teaching me. That even when you feel frozen in time, even when the world feels impossibly far away, there’s beauty within. The snow whispers back: love yourself, as you love the snow. There is still beauty, still hope, still tomorrow.
Today, I carry hope like a single flame against the cold. Though miles and miles may stretch between where I am and where my heart calls home, I know this: tomorrow will come. And with it, another chance to love, to grow, to believe. For today, I’ll let the snow remind me: the journey is far from over.
One Step. One Punch. One Round. 🌹
— Your Fellow Traveler