Brown, Sarah Campbell

A Miracle from the Clouds

It’s a quiet, wintry night, filled with the anticipation of snow. I’ve been sitting inside frantically checking the weather all night. When suddenly, I look out the window into the dark night and spy snow flurries. I quickly run out into the elements, staring up into the purple-grey sky from which the big fat flurries fall, accumulating at my feet and blanketing the ground in a carpet of white. You can hear the happy cries of people all throughout the neighborhood, all captivated by nature’s miracle. The pure joy is inescapable, radiating all around as we turn our faces up to the sky in awe. We savor the moment; we delight in the unexpected, the flakes symbolizing the validation of our hopes and wishes.

The purple-grey sky is replaced by a yellow-blue sunrise, and I awaken to the soft winter light filtering in through my blinds. I instantly get up and run to the window, eager to wake up to a snow day for the first time in eight years. I am not disappointed, before my eyes stretches a true winter wonderland. The ground is blanketed in pure white snow for miles. Trees and branches bare, but now beautiful, adorned with nature’s jewelry, a world made magic by the touch of Mother Nature. The dull, dead brown land is lush once again, not green and luscious but adorned in the pure white confection that’s a gift from the clouds.

Walking through the snow, marveling at its austere beauty, delighting in its simple pleasures…it’s all so wonderful for a few hours, until the temperatures rise and the sun comes out, melting our wintry playground into mush. The dull, dead browns and greens of yesterday begin to reappear as their snowy disguise recedes and evaporates back to the clouds. Yet some snow still remains. For in the middle of the lawn stands a snowman, a humble icy sculpture than endures long after the rest melts. Other than the loss of an eye and a carrot nose, the snowman stands tall in the middle of brown, dead grass. Warm and toasty inside, our hearts are grateful but a twinge sad at the end of a day made special in its rareness. We gaze outside at the snowman, a lingering reminder of the glorious snowfall of the previous day. Like in life, the good and joyful miracles don’t last forever. We delight in them when we can, appreciating the gift nature gives us in her unexpected way.

Sarah Campbell Brown | Age 16