A FLORIDA WINTER WONDERLAND NICANOR VERGARA Are you truly happy? It was around two-thirty in the morningand I still couldn’t sleep, so I decided I wanted to go for a walkon a chilly Florida night. It was thirty-six degrees when I checked the weather before I got dressed. An average winter day up north, but a rare moment to cherish in the South. I put on the thickest clothes I had to make sure I wouldn’t die, but also relished in the fact that it was one of the rare moments I could wear them. Clad in my thickest jeans, a hoodie, and a winter jacket, I set out for the quiet roads of my small college town.The usually bustling main road was empty, save for the occasional car or two passing by. The sound of their cold, metallic bodies cutting the cold wind, accompanied by the soft hum of their tires on the pavement served as the soundtrack for my aimless expedition.I looked up at the clear earlymorning sky at the stars and gave myself a goal: I would find a nice spot to look at the stars. However, the solace of starlight cannot be found on main roads, or even the vacant grounds on campus. No, I would have to find some place for myself. So, I walked. My shoes quietly rubbed against the sidewalks with every step. That sound was replaced with dirt and grass crunching beneath me when I stumbled across a dried-out pond behind some apartment buildings. It seemed like the perfect place to enjoy the view. The treetops ended at right around the place where the basin began to incline. However, as I started to trek downwards, I noticed a couple of ducks standing in the middle of the empty pond. As nice as the view would’ve been, I didn’twant to fend off angry ducks for it. So, I went back up the basin and started walking again. The humble sounds of my footsteps disturbing the earth were replaced once more with shoes on pavement. They tapped and scratched against the ground as I again wandered to find a nice spot to enjoy this cold Florida night.That pleasurable cacophony wasreplaced with the scratchy symphony of gravel as I walked through the school’s horticultural field. At least, that’s what I thought it was. Lining the gravel path was an assortment of young pine trees and low-lying shrubbery that could easily be mistaken for weeds. However, I found a picnic table tucked away in a dark corner of this meek observatory and found my spot.
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