“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”
-Albert Camus-

Beep, beep. Beep-beep. Is it that time already, I thought, as the temporary solace of sleep I so seldom enjoyed was instantly engulfed by what seemed to be incessant beeping? Must be. Slowly, I stepped out of bed, onto a nipping wood floor in which the darkness of winter had thrust cold upon. The first to awake, the sound of the creaking floor masked the silence I had so hoped to find. Stepping further onto the frigid wood, the bitter cold temperatures of the ground I continually endured penetrated my socks. Transitioning onto the near polar kitchen tile, I awaited for the hot chocolate I had prepared to spread its warmth. Looking out the window, I watched as the small white snowflakes: soft, thick, and many, drifted onto rooftops, trees, and bushes. And how the sun, brighter than ever, its effect fortified by the sea of snow that lay below it, shined light upon the white blanket that such tiny snowflakes had accumulated into; the blanket which masked the last of the leaves and built winter’s wonderland directly over the remnants of autumn.

Finishing the last of my hot chocolate, I prepared to enter the adventure that awaited outside. I buttoned my jacket, fastened my boots, and put on my hat, greeted by the winter chill as I opened the door. In the depth of winter, I thought, the bustle of the morning had disappeared. While most were warm, snug, and deep in sleep, left only to dream of the summer months to come in the comfort of their home, I stood unprotected in an intemperate blizzard. Such inclement weather had immersed the human population, allowing the darkness of the season to permeate and conceal the hope that spring and the ensuing seasons instill within the human mind. Yet I stand here everyday. But why, I thought? Certainly, I do not relish in below freezing weather. Then I realized. The spirit of the summer months does not grow old. Rather, it is hidden by the darkness of winter. Indeed, hope is difficult to find in times of such a nature, but it has not faded. Daily, walking in the frigid months of winter, as seemingly the only human being awake at such an ungodly hour, I learned to appreciate the June of the season of snow. Winter turns to spring which in turn leads to summer. But the optimism and hope affiliated with the seasons of hustle and bustle have never ceased to exist; the human mind has just failed to recognize them.

And this I learned upon waking every morning on the coldest of days. While others are huddled in their homes because they fail to see the light that the white of the snow provides, I continue, as the darkness of winter cannot survive when the light of the snow overpowers it. Unseen by those who remain locked inside their homes beside the fire amidst such weather, are the true beauties of the wintertime. Unable are they to appreciate the snowscapes, ice crystals, frost, and to meet the crisp breeze that they hide from with appreciation, as with the coming of winter, for them, is the departure of spring and summer. Unfortunately, if one cannot grasp the true beauty of the winter months, they too have lost the sense of hope, optimism, and blissful attitude that summer created for all the seasons. And every morning, I awake to monotonous and unrelenting beeps, to meet the winter chill that lies outside my door, as I have learned that the darkness of the wintertime is a matter of perception, for the snow provides light as does the sun, and the spirit of summer has never left.