Snow Short Piece

 I can’t decide if I like winter or not. You would think after living in Massachusetts for 21 years I would adapt to the routine bitterness of January. Not to say that I haven’t, but something about that first step outside into grey frozen silence and the gradual numbing pain in my fingers never gets easier. It is like the world is not alive but it is also not dead. I tell myself that under that slimy sludge, salt stains, and poorly shoveled sidewalks is shaggy green grass, the melody of birds chirping, and tiny tree branches budding. This is not to say I don’t love the illuminating aura of fresh snow or that first step into the crunchy powder, but this is to say that I enjoy spring much more.