After a day of heavy snow in New York City last Saturday, my adventures took me to the upper east side. As the car door opened, I was greeted with a strong wave of flakes going in every direction imaginable. My heavy tan boots stepped on to the ground and perspiration trapped lightly inside of my heavy jacket, scarf, hat and gloves. With a heart full of excitement and hope I began to walk. The visibility was meek, but I wanted to breathe in and feel the chaos of the storm. Billions of snowflakes whipped around me, cutting into my eyes and stabbing into every piece of flesh I had exposed. The storm felt unorganized, tumultuous, hurtful and dangerous as it flew in every direction possible.
People were bustling about, tourists hopping into cabs and local New Yorkers making their Saturday errands, all happening in the park just outside of the Plaza Hotel. My eyes saw chaos, yet my ears were welcomed with a peaceful silence. Each step welcomed more calmness to my heart, more warmth to my bones. Each crinkling step offered a cozy crunching sound that brought a smile to my face knowing that it was only then, in those fresh snow moments, that I could hear that sound of nothingness and stillness. The sound of snow packing together – it is like no other. It was strong enough to walk on, drive on, ski on or even build upon.
Even during the greatest chaos of the storm I found peace, and it was when the snowflakes joined together in support and understanding underneath my feet.