First Snow

I woke up and saw white everywhere.
Usually I keep the blinds open when I sleep, so that the abundance of light outside would force me out of my practical hibernation. This morning, the scenery outside was blindingly beautiful.

Well, then. Never mind the pile of half-open democratic theory books by my pillow and the pages of monetary policy notes scattered all over the floor. Never mind the slush and unsalted sidewalks. Never mind the cold and my unkempt appearance. I decided to follow my instincts and go get coffee.

Maybe the years in Singapore has eliminated all memories of a temperate climate, because despite being a Beijing-er I still marvel at snow. I can't help it. There is something about the perfect geometry of a snowflake and the awash of whiteness it brings that best conveys the wonder of our world. Plus, there is no better feeling than walking through the quiet streets of the morning, with snowflakes falling on your hair, and a winter wonderland before you.

I leave my apartment and slowly trek towards Istria Cafe. It must have been snowing all night, because some accumulation had been built up on the sidewalks. I wave hello to the man spreading salt on the pavement. A couple of kids prance past me, excited about a snowball fight by the lake. It is at times like these when I feel like I'm seeing the real Hyde Park and appreciate this kaleidoscopic community. I may be an outsider (a foreigner, even!)wearing a University of Chicago sweatshirt, but lately, on walks like this one, I finally began to open my eyes. I want to understand this neighbourhood, discover its charms, and remember the ambiance of this little juxtaposition of race and culture on the South Side.

The distance to Istria is only two blocks down Lake Park, but I took my time. Despite the snow, I stop in front of the murals on the 56th street Metra station and examine them closely for the first time. The paintings depict various members of the Hyde Park community, from a university professor to an immigrant shop keeper. I step back to absorb its powerful message, and see an old lady walking past shoot me a little smile. It warmed me up instantly.

Finally, I reach my destination and walk into the smell of dark roast coffee and freshly baked muffins. Five minutes later, with a soy chai latte and cinnamon chip scone in hand, I head home feeling inexplicably contented. By now, it was snowing harder, but the pavements had been salted. Brushing the snowflakes out of my hair, I watch the salt crystals glisten in the sunlight, my mind flooded by an overwhelming sense of peace. 40 pages worth of papers and two finals await me, but for now, I couldn't help but think: Life is good.