As I sit here gazing out the window of the coffee shop, I can’t help but to procrastinate from the work I should be doing. It is noon, on a Saturday and I should be finishing up my rough draft of my story. Procrastination is something I should not be doing, especially since this could be my big break. The forecast called for rain, but not one drop of rain has fallen today.

I can’t help but to keep looking out the window. My eyes catch every detail of the world outside the coffee shop I’m concealed in. The roads are busy with dozens of cars and trucks, there’s a man selling hot dogs on the street corner, and right below the feet of the man are sprouts of vibrant green grass just starting to grow. You could simply tell that the long winter was over and spring was very close.

I need to stop distracting myself with my eye’s mind. I begin to write again…but not for long. I look at the window again and I’m surprised at the sight I see. The forecast called for rain, but instead snow began to fall from the sky. Just looking at the snow makes me think about the time my grandmother came into town for Christmas. I can’t help but to smile at the memory.

When I was about 5 years old, my grandmother flew from California all the way to New York for Christmas. Usually my mother, brother, and I flew to California to celebrate, but this year was different. I was young and I did not quite understand why it was exactly that my grandmother was coming here for a change. My mother sat us down and told us that this was going to be a very special Christmas. She continued to tell us that this was going to be Nana’s last Christmas with us here on Earth and that she wanted it to be a white one. All I remember is crying and not understanding as to why she wouldn’t be able to celebrate with us after this year.

At the time, my grandmother was very ill and had a final request. Nana requested to spend Christmas in New York with her loving children, grandchildren, and of course the snow. The look on my grandmother’s face was priceless when she took her first glance at the snow. The day progressed and there was laughing, crying, lots of food, and of course story time. Every year Nana would share a story with us about something special in her life. This year’s story was very special. My grandmother said,

“Now I want to tell you all about when I was younger, a time when I felt like I could conquer the word.” Nana continued to tell us about the time she received her first pair of figure skates. “Growing up, we didn’t have all the luxuries that you kids have now. My father was a hard worker, but the depression only brought more hardships,” said my grandmother.
She continued to tell us how excited she was and how she took them outside to try them out on the frozen pond in her backyard. As my grandmother went on with her story, she explained to us that the Christmas she received those skates, was the reasoning behind her love for winter.

I begin to snap back to reality, I’m sitting in front of my computer again. The memory of my grandmother really makes me think… maybe I should take a different approach to my story. Instead of stressing over the facts, maybe I should just keep simplicity in mind. I begin to type again. My story begins to flow with each peck of my keyboard. I can’t help but think aloud,

“Thanks Nana.”

Thanks to an unexpected snow fall, a memory, and a new approach…my story made it.