It's 12:49 AM, I have a paper to edit and some serious sleep to catch up on. But first, I have to capture this moment. It's one of those that I just don't ever want to forget.
It never snows in London. But it snowed yesterday. And today. It's snowing now. Outside, the big fluffy white flakes are falling with purpose, illuminated by the street lamps as they cover the awning of the Betsey Trotwood pub across from my window. The sidewalks are covered in a thin icing of white and, despite the occasional cars and busses meandering down the street, it is wonderfully calm.
Inside my (relatively) clean flat, I'm sitting long-ways on a comfy red couch. Only a few lights are on, including the string of Christmas lights that we draped across the windows, ensuring maximum visibility from the street. The ornaments on the small fake tree in the corner reflect the colored pinpricks of light; the roses in their wine-bottle vases, the centerpieces from our memorable Thanksgiving feast, remind me of some Italian family's Sunday dinner, filled with laughter and the scent of good food.
I am so very cozy, sitting here and watching the sky lovingly sugar the earth. I watch the same process from my room at home, I look out over my left shoulder in the same exact way. I've seen the seasons change, and I can't believe it. Wasn't it yesterday I walked to school in a skirt and t-shirt? Or was it 4 months ago? A year? It all seems the same. Because right now, it's snowing, it always has been, and that's what I always want it to do.
I want to go home. I want to stay here. I don't know what I want, except to cherish this moment and remember how happy I can be when nothing is happening at all and I just look out on the world.
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