Author: Gaby Keane
Dear Snow,
I could write a dissertation on the pain and suffering you’ve cause me during my time here in Ithaca, but that’s not the letter my therapist told me to write. I’m supposed to reflect on some of the reasons I love and appreciate you, however brutally hard of a task that may be.
I guess I’ll start with the obvious: you may be cold and relentless, but you really are beautiful. Whether you’re blanketing the campus in an untouched layer of white, or falling softly under the moonlight at night, you create the quintessential story-book winter everywhere I look. Nothing takes my breath away (besides -5° weather) like looking at the gorges and waterfalls frozen mid-stream, as if winter has pressed pause on their natural inclination to flow.
Now back to complaining. One of my biggest gripes with you has to do with the destruction you repeatedly inflict on the roads. Never have my brakes failed me as much as they do in an Ithaca winter (I’ll be sending you the bill for my near heart attacks). I will say that you have toughened me immensely as a winter driver. My skills have been honed to an expert level that will never fail me, no matter where I live after Ithaca… Not that I expect much snow in whatever sunny paradise I end up moving to.
You make me cold all the damn time, snow, but this does gives me the chance to do two things: learn to layer winter clothes like a pro, and make like a bear by eating to stay warm. What’s a little weight gain when it’s hidden by the six layers plus down jacket required to step foot outside? Not to mention how cute my slightly chubby cheeks look when they’re all reddened by the wind and cold.
Speaking of stepping foot outside – little did I know that upon moving to Ithaca I would not only be receiving a stellar education, but the opportunity to brave dangerous conditions right and left as well. Yes, I’m referring to the danger zone that is Cornell’s campus after snow has fallen and hardened to a gleaming surface (no winter maintenance, anyone?). How many college kids can say that walking to class involves mastering the art of balancing on an icy mountain (aka an unshoveled set of stairs)?
So, snow, I guess you’re not that bad. Though you burden us students almost daily with inches on unforgiving inches, at least you’re the common enemy that brings this campus together.
Love (begrudgingly),
Gaby
P.S. Can you stop messing around and actually snow enough to make Cornell administration cancel class? It seems that about 30 inches (no less) should do the trick. Thanks.
This letter was inspired by A Breakup Letter to Snow From the City of Boston. We thought snow deserved a break.
