When I saw, from the window of my dorm room, the blanket of snow descend I was filled both with wonder and agitation. Even though I thought snow was incredibly pretty and fascinating to watch, I quickly reminded myself that I usually feel miserable when experiencing it. I blame the latter on being involved in a few “close calls” while commuting around the tri-state area during the winter months. Before I left home in New Jersey to return to school, my mom frantically bought me new winter apparel. My mom purchased for me a new, fashionable North Face winter coat that I protested in owning because my older, less expensive (and non-name brand) winter coat was still in good condition. She also got me a pair of waterproof black snow boots that seemed more appropriate for an elite team of covert arctic commandos that needed to ascend snowy cliffs, rather than for a college student that would encounter poorly paved sidewalks and icy paths, at best. Perhaps my mom thought these boots (made in China, for probably a fraction of their cost) would most efficiently “retain the vital heat” so that I would not catch pneumonia, die, and suffer a drop in my grade point average (Thoreau 18). Yet to show her that I was a grateful son, which I truly was, I took the jacket and boots anyway.
The heavy snowfall had subsided by the time I ventured outside wearing my boots and jacket. On my head I wore a Harley-Davidson beanie hat that I had been given for Christmas. While the hat itself hardly performed its intended function due to its smaller size. Perhaps I wanted the hat to assimilate into my character and have it affect how people viewed me. “Every day our garments become more assimilated to ourselves, receiving the impress of the wearer’s character…” (Thoreau 18). I also arguably attached sentimental value to the hat because it reminded me of my spring and summer hobby, which my family also supports. The boots and jacket, however, would undoubtedly take more time to gain sentimental value. I at first was reluctant to walk with the boots through the dirty, slushy snow because they still had a shiny, new look about them. I seemed fairly impressed with the jacket because I felt warm (perhaps, almost too warm) as I walked around campus. My thoughts, however, quickly dissipated after I noticed many content students walking around in hoodies, sweaters, and even t-shirts. My walk eventually took me to the outskirts of Flagstaff Hill, in Schenley Park. With my pant-legs tucked into my boots and my hood over my head, I ascended up the hill. Apart from the faint sounds of snowplows scraping up the pavement on the surrounding streets, the atmosphere amongst the trees seemed quite serene. The glimmering lights of Oakland shone in the distance as I stood near the top of hill and took the majestic silence in. At that moment, for the first time since I began going to college, Pittsburgh seemed faintly reminiscent of the New Jersey countryside. I then walked down the back of the hill and created a new string of footprints as I went along. Although my footprints had partly disturbed the smooth surface and appearance of the hill, I wondered if anyone else that casually walked on the hill would feel compelled to follow alongside my footprints; they were only proof of what I did that night. As I finally got back to a paved pathway, a jogger that wore shorts briskly passed by. Feeling foolish of my appearance, I quickly removed my hood, un-zipped my coat, and headed back to my dorm.
No comments:
Post a Comment