Every day I come home to a warm home, cozy as it can be, and I am at peace. Every day, I curl up in front of the fireplace and take a nap before any of the little ones get home. I eat what is given to me, I do what is told, and all is well.
But if there was no winter, I would not stay.
The wintry nights make me content. I look out the window every snowing, soft afternoon, and I see the white snowflakes dancing past my nose. It is warm inside, but I feel a chill when I see the snow, piled up on the front porch.
Sometimes, I might go and take a walk. I see the dim lights in other people’s windows, and the snow all heaped up on someone’s rooftop, or someone else’s car. On these afternoons, I have nothing to do but look at the snow. However, I am satisfied.
I do not need more than the seven-pointed little cold white stars falling from the sky, collecting one by one on the cold ground. I do not have a need for riches or clothes, food or anything of good quality. All I need is the feeling of warmth and comfort when I sit inside, looking out.
When I press my nose against the windowpane, I melt some of the presents left behind by Jack Frost. When I sip some warm liquid on my favorite chair, I feel a bubble of joy inside of me.
But best of all, is when I go outside just to see the white, swirling sheet around me.
The snowflakes dance and laugh, twirling, spinning, and landing softly with their brothers and sisters, cousins and aunts. I don’t feel the cold that’s nipping at my heels and my nose, I just stand there, enjoying the snowfall.
Suddenly, I realize that I am soaked, and I am freezing cold, so I run back inside my house, until I’m warm again. I know that there are many less fortunate than I, and I should be happy for what I have. And I am.
I’m happy I have the snow all around me, and I have winter by my side. And as long as I know this, I will always be happy.