Attack of the Dreaded Mutant Killer Monster Snowfall, or It's a Magical New Year |

By Greg Meyer
January 15, 2015

From the Calvin and Hobbes Wikia

If you live in a northern part of the United States, then it’s safe to assume you’re familiar with the constant presence of snow during the winter. I’ve lived with snow my whole life, and nothing quite compares to walking outside on a winter’s day to a fresh snowfall on the ground. Before my eyes I see unblemished snow layering over the dead grass like an endless cloth, painting the sides of trees with ivory designs while they wave at you with the gust of brisk winter air. There’s still the child in me that wants to jump for joy and rush to dress up and go sledding down the hill that sits down the street in my old hometown.

As I’ve grown older, my childlike excitement falls on deaf ears, as age and cynicism twist and beat down my once fervent love of snow. “Oh great, time to waste two hours shoveling the snow before work,” I think at four in the morning, hours before the sun will crack over the horizon. “Awesome, time for a three-hour commute home!” I snark from my computer chair as I gaze sadly out of the office window. What happened to that joy I once held? Real life is what happened, and sledding doesn’t pay the bills.

My feelings toward each New Year have followed the same depressing path as my love of snow. What was once the excitement of a brand-new year now turns to dreading what new hardships the next year will bring. My thoughts dredge up fear and doubt to turn my new year’s snow into dirty, filthy sludge. “One year closer to my death,” I sigh. “One year closer to death for my loved ones. One more year I haven’t accomplished my dreams. I wonder what terrible things lie in store for me this year.”

But along with the New Year comes new chances and opportunities. The old year has passed, like a chapter completed in a novel I’m writing. I’ve turned the page to Chapter 2015, and do you know what’s there?

Nothing.

It’s empty and blank, covered by a sheet of newly fallen snow to cover the disappointments, wounds, and failures of the past year. I’m not burdened by what’s been written before; it’s been covered up completely. So with new-found vigor and passion, we must move forward into this new chapter of our lives and fill it with new words we’ve learned and old ones we’ve cherished. The chapter will be written whether we want it to be or not, but the question is will you take charge and write something meaningful?

With these words I type, I’m taking control of the chapter and not letting it pass me by. I’m going to push forward and make my own tracks in the snow before they all melt away. Won’t you join me?