(Editor’s note: This essay is part of Bethesda Beat’s Coronavirus Chronicles personal essay series. Visit the submission page to learn more.)
Feathery crystals falling from the sky, as if heaven is crying tears of joy, forming a serenely uniform blanket across the ground.
Waking up to see the world covered in fresh white powder, my brother and I smacking snowballs at each other’s faces shamelessly, before our mother shouted at us to stop our foolishness.
Snow days were so simple, so exciting, so blissful. But a move to Dubai three years ago made them a fairy tale.
When we returned to Bethesda this fall, amidst the rise of COVID-19 and presidential chaos, the world was a somber place. The health of loved ones has been at constant risk, as with jobs and nutrition.
On a much smaller scale, I couldn’t link with friends, or make new ones. While home had always felt like a safe haven from the daunting school halls, it started feeling like a dungeon I was trapped in, unable to break free.
One day, however, I awoke to see snowflakes drop from the sky like salt from its shaker. I rushed to pile on a bunch of layers. My brother and I darted outside to commence our vintage battles.
Mom grinned as she looked upon us, noticing our maturity (or lack of it) years later.
My forgotten fairy tale was back! The storm of depression that had built during the coronavirus faded away, with my mind lost in the crisp air.
When a snowball struck my chest, feelings of childhood struck my heart. For those few hours, the world was normal again.
As much as we had to complain about, we had moments like these.
These times require us to find these things, as small as they are, because we all have them. We’ve just got to embrace them, because they’re what keep us going.
Siddharth Singh is a sophomore at Walt Whitman High School in Bethesda.