Every year, I look forward to this day. Not that it’s the first cold day, or the first day where there is ice. It is, however, the day I celebrate. Usually it is a weekend. On a weekday, I’d be rushing off to school. I always hope for a bright sunny day. When I open the curtains, everything is obscured by a blanket of ice. I place my forehead and hands against the window. The warmth from my body on the smooth cold pane creates little holes, through which I see the world outside. I now know it is winter.
100 words written for Friday Fictioneers,