So I was searching through the old files on my computer and I found this gem. It's an autobiographical narrative paper I did for Freshman English in high school. At the time, I was quite proud of it. I love it when stories have deeper meanings or metaphors that tie things together, and I had found a way to work it into a story! You may not think it's stellar, and I agree. It isn't. I figured I'd give you something to chew on.
I Am Snow
Snow is pure. It’s magical. Innocence is snow. I had dreams
of one day standing, mouth agape as it floated around me in a cool blanket.
But, until then, I sat, staring at others frolicking in its presence in
pictures, movies, and books. One day,
I thought, I will be them.
It was early April, 2001. It had been an arduous 3-day
journey from Pomona, CA across to Chicago, IL. My dad, Randall (my brother), and I had
driven all this way in our weathered, gray Dodge Caravan to visit our mom. She
had been taking classes at the Illinois College of Optometry (ICO) to one day
be a professional optometrist, an eye doctor.
As we approached Chicago, from afar we could see the Chicago
skyline silhouetted against the gray, cloudy Lake Michigan sky. Our excitement
built as we got closer to the downtown area. We marveled at the steel giants
towering in the distance covered in a thin film of snow, but the excitement
could never surpass the joy we would have of seeing our mom.
As we pulled around a street corner (East 33rd
Blvd. and South Indiana Ave. to be more precise) we saw the glistening sign of
ICO. We were ecstatic! Our dad pulled up to the curb next to the dorm. Inside
was our mother expectantly waiting for us. Randall and I hurried our dad to
open the door. As soon as he did, we jumped out and ran as fast as our little
legs could carry us into the best hug we could ever imagine. It seemed to last
forever.
In the following days, our mom showed us the ins and outs of
the school. We saw her monstrous 600 or so student classroom, her dorm, and
discovered how well we could play ping pong. We were also able to celebrate
Randall’s 6th birthday on April 11 with all the fixings of an
impromptu surprise party; a cake, barely enough candles (good thing he was only
six), and family. But, that’s all we needed.
My dream of seeing falling snow lingered in my mind almost
every second during our stay there. To my dismay, the days flew by without so
much as a single flake. Before we knew it, it was the morning of the final day.
The dorm room lay dormant. That is until, “Mommy! Daddy! Look, snow!” Our faces
were glued to the window (frozen to it possibly). This is what I had dreamt of
for so long. I was finally able to lay my eyes on falling snow. As the day wore
on, we stayed mesmerized at the winter wonderland beyond the panes of glass.
The day went quickly and before we knew it, it was time to
leave. As we walked out to our parked van, the snow still fell lightly around
us. Randall and I, still running around marveling at the wonderment around us,
had to say goodbye to our mom, our mixed feelings to hard for our minds to
comprehend. The snow, us leaving, how could we? We cried. Our tears rolled down
our faces and fell, mixing with the snow around us. What else could we do?
Snow is pure. It’s magical. Innocence is snow. For one brief
moment, on that chilly April afternoon in a little parking lot in Chicago, I
was snow.