WINTER DAYS

 Trust me, I want to hate the winter here in Munich. I want to hate myself when I can't get out of my cosy blanket every single morning. I want to hate myself wearing four to five layers of clothes, looking like a Matryoshka doll. I want to hate it when everyone I meet says, 'Hey, your nose is so red, haha'. I want to hate getting a sore throat after walking out in the cold for five minutes. I want to hate it when I'm sneezing, coughing and trying to stand on the ground as high velocity wind gushes past me. 

I want to hate it all. 

But the moment it snows, the world around me becomes magical. My snow layered hair looks prettier, even if it sometimes gets frizzy. The squishes and crunches when I walk on the white roads is the most satisfying feeling I've ever had (Yes, more than bubble wraps). Catching the snow flakes, like they are some precious crystals, squeezing the snow to make  little snow balls and throwing it on my friends, and begging them to throw it on me, building little snow men with whatever snow is available, and basically anything and everything to do with snow gets miraculously entertaining all of a sudden. 

Sometimes, I wonder why winters are so horrible. But then, I remember how relieving it feels to go back to my warm room after a long day of bearing minus two degrees, waiting for the sun to shine in the noon to just catch a glimpse of it, the longing for warmth and the longing for love. It's not the unbearable cold that lingers in my memories, but the beauty of yearning for that warm cup of tea, hugs and blankets. 

No matter how much I want to hate winters, I end up loving the wonders it brings. Winters are magical. Winters are enchanting. Winters are what I wait for, everyday that is not a winter day.