When I think back to winters as a kid, snow was everything. The first flakes felt like magic — a sign that it was finally time to dig out the heavy coats, build forts, and stay outside until our fingers went numb. Snow days were pure gold: an unexpected break from school and a world that suddenly looked brand-new, quiet and covered in white.
But lately, winter doesn’t feel the same. The snow still shows up sometimes, but it doesn’t stick around. One day the yard’s covered in white, and the next, it’s a muddy mess. I still have the same coat and boots, but they spend more time in the closet than they used to. And honestly, I miss the kind of snow that stayed long enough to build, sled, and make a mess of the driveway. It sounds small, but missing the snow feels bigger than just nostalgia. It feels like proof that something in the world is shifting.
I used to think memories just got exaggerated over time — that maybe I was romanticizing my childhood winters. But now, it’s hard not to notice how different things are. The snow isn’t gone completely, but it’s unpredictable. And that unpredictability is kind of heartbreaking, because it’s not just weather, but climate change showing up in our own backyards.
We usually talk about climate change in numbers: graphs, data, rising temperatures. But for me, it hits when I look out the window in January and see brown grass instead of white snow. It’s personal in a way I didn’t expect. I think about all the kids who might never know what it feels like to have school canceled because the roads are buried, or to come inside soaked and freezing but completely happy.
It’s not just the snow I miss — it’s the feeling of winter itself. The crisp air, the cozy layers, that quiet rhythm of the season you could always count on. The kind of winter that made you slow down and notice things.
The winters I grew up with might be changing, but that doesn’t mean they’re gone for good. There’s still time — time to care, time to act, time to keep this part of the world alive. Missing winter isn’t just about wanting snow again. It’s about wanting to hold on to something simple and beautiful before it slips away completely.
