With the first snow came a sense of freedom and recklessness that could only have been acquired at that time of year. Christmas was almost upon us, and as I sat facing the open window in French class, I found my attention drawn to thoughts of the merriment and festivities of the season. Shouts from the yard below drifted upwards as the snow fell, soft white flakes landing gently on every branch, sidewalk, and blade of grass. From where I was, I could just barely make out the green of the neighboring field. A time had passed in which I would have thought there to be no green in the world, but the thickening platform of snow would provide a stable foundation for my rebirth.

The bell rang, bringing me back from my thoughts and into reality. I gathered my belongings and rushed to meet the awaiting snow. As I stepped outside, I hesitated between the warmth of the school and the frigid air, choosing the latter. I turned my face to the ivory sky and was stung by the falling of a snowflake. I remembered feeling as though I was insignificant, not unlike the single flake, alone and unwanted. As more fell, I realized that the snowflake was not alone, and was, in fact, part of a much bigger system. Whether it was to land silently on the wing of a gull, or melt under the foot of a pedestrian, each snowflake had a purpose.

I don’t mean this to sound cheesy or cliché, but I guess what I’m saying is, change can be good. We are not insignificant – we all have a purpose. Sometimes all we need it to start anew, fresh like the falling of snow, and then we will find out what it is.