It didn't snow a bit last December in Manhattan. Christmas of 2004 was one without snow, one that was not decorated by the whiteness. It was so different from what we used to have in Michigan. The two of us flew away on December 31, spending the eve of the new year on one Northwest flight.
Yet this December, as if there was an attempt to make it up, a few snow storms have already made their way into New York City. One of them hit really hard. Coming from a country that is half sub-tropical, half tropical, i do not truly care about having snow during a long winter, or on a Christmas day.
It's true, though, that an image of inches of snow, covering a small cabin, the ground, and some evergreens nearby, is somehow associated with a "warm" Christmas, when all the family and friends are re-united and sharing their growth and sorrow for the past year.
When snow comes down, it doesn't make any sound and announce its visit like rain does. Yet it also provides similar sootheness. Somehow, i feel comforted, assured, with them coming down from the sky outside my apartment.
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