I will be the last person on Earth to say the words "I love winter," but honestly, tonight I couldn't help loving a little part of it as I was driving home. And that is the stillness and delicateness of a fresh snowfall.
I don't think I've ever seen a city get more quiet than it did tonight, in the wee hours. (It's Friday, what can I say?) Provo is usually subdued around this time of night--I guess some people like to sleep or something--but tonight was different. Each and every snowflake, gently falling onto the fresh blanket, seemed to soften the world around it. I almost didn't want to breathe, for fear of ruining something so beautiful. (And I was sure that taking out my keys to open my apartment door was the noisiest thing in existence.) But sitting here, looking out my window, the world is peaceful. And that is something, although I never thought I'd say it, for which I must thank winter.
So, without further ado, thank you, my dark, dreary, thoughtful, graceful, soft, gentle friend.
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