Ode to Snow

and reflections on homesickness

I write this very fuzzy-eyed, jet-lagged from my journey back to London. Despite the difficulties, I had an amazing trip home. My 10-day isolation post-COVID ended the first day of my last week, and I am grateful that I was able to spend time with my close family and friends before I left. Perhaps the biggest miracle of all was that my hometown got around 8 inches of snow on Monday — a rarity for early January. I woke up to my neighborhood covered in white. It felt surreal, and throughout the day my eyes would find a window and I was struck by the reality of it. After lunch, I ventured outside. My dad was clearing our driveway and I wandered around the neighborhood. It felt like a dreamscape. There’s a special kind of quiet that happens when it snows. The silence echoes through you.

I hobbled across our backyard into the woods behind our house. I tucked my body far enough inside so that I was surrounded by trees, the snow light on the branches. It was as if God had spray-painted the world white. I wanted to stare at the brightness so hard that the image would etch itself on the inside of my eyelids.

“Snowfall” by Mark Strand

Watching snow cover the ground, cover itself,
cover everything that is not you, you see
it is the downward drift of light
upon the sound of air sweeping away the air,
it is the fall of moments into moments, the burial
of sleep, the down of winter, the negative of night. 

The snow was really a miracle. I was complaining to my mom a few days before about how upset I was that I wouldn’t be able to see snow this year, and soon after I was given the gift in all its glory. It doesn’t often snow in London, and when it does, it’s barely enough to cover the ground. London has trees and parks and pretty buildings, but it will never give me the same big-eyed wonder that home does in the snow.

by Oamul Lu

Time went by really fast during my trip. I feel like I blinked. Three weeks is a long time, but compared to 18 months at home, it was barely anything. I fell right back into step as if nothing changed. It was hard to ground myself, to connect my floating heart with my body, to salvage the moments I had the best I could. But standing in the snow slowed everything down, and I became overwhelmed with gratitude. I closed my eyes and said a little prayer.

It’s been nearly a week since the snowstorm and our backyard is still covered, confirmed by my mom via FaceTime. When I was outside on Monday, I ran across the backyard and shaped my footsteps into a heart, so my mom could see it as she worked from our breakfast nook. The heart is still there. I talked to my dad when I arrived at my apartment, and he said “jat khali”, which is a Persian phrase used to say we miss you, but it literally means your place is empty. We use it pretty haphazardly, but it hit me differently today. It’s comforting to know that though my place may be empty, it will always be there for me to fill. Even when the snow melts, I hope my heart-shaped footsteps echo through the earth beneath my home.

From “Cold Poem” by Mary Oliver:

Maybe what cold is, is the time
we measure the love we have always had, secretly,
for our own bones

Further Reading

• “Winter Poem” by Nikki Giovanni

• from Light: “If I stand” by Inger Christensen

• “Snowdrops” by Louise Glück

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What I’ve Enjoyed Recently

Recent Reads

• “Rain” by Raymond Carver. I remember waking up on that snowy morning and feeling a responsibility to read an entire book or bake a cake. I felt like I had to romanticize it. Then, I looked out the window for a moment and fell back asleep. Put myself entirely / in the keep of this rainy morning.

• “Early January” by W.S. Merwin. I love month poems.

Other Wonderful Things

• I saw Sing 2 with my sisters and it was kind of incredible. It was extra fun to see it with them, but overall the movie was really touching and well done.

• I finally finished knitting my first scarf! It’s cool to wear something my hands have made (though my sister helped make it less…. wonky).

• My mom and I finally finished Gilmore Girls. I do love the show but I think watching it with my mom made it extra special.

• This La Maison Indonée bowl from the MOMA store has given me insurmountable joy. I can’t wait to have soup out of it.

• My best friend introduced me to baked brie and I can’t stop thinking about it. We added loads of garlic and honey and had it with toast and jam.

• This jazz playlist on Spotify!

Honestly, the most wonderful of them all has been home and all aspects of it. I ate my favorite foods and saw my favorite people. I am so happy and grateful.

<3

Tara