The bus sways as fierce winds blow against it. I lean my head against the window, my breath fogging up the glass. “Today is not a good day.” I had gotten into a fight with friends. Again. No matter how much I tried to change, it seems like it was never enough. Never enough to just be myself.
The bus rolls to a stop and I make my way down the steps. A frosty gust of wind strikes my face as my feet hit the fluffy snow. Pure white, untouched by anybody else. Undisturbed until I come along. Step-by-step, I drag myself towards my house, number one.
I focus on my goal of traversing through the snow-piled road.
“Everything’s okay,” I tell myself. I stumble as I walk, nearly face-planting into the snow. Yeah right. “Everything’s okay” is quickly turning into “nothing’s okay.” Still, I press onward.
When I reach my driveway, I’m shivering and wet. I still had one more stretch to cross before I was home, warm and comfortable. Home and number one in my mind once more. I lift my feet again, but my sister is making her way down the steps to meet me. She says something, but I can’t hear past the wind. As I’m lifting my feet, my backpack shifts, disrupting my balance. I fall into the snow, back-first. My face is numb as the wind drops snow onto my face, but I laugh. My first winter in New York and I was already on my back. I flap my arms and legs, attempting to make a snow angel. My sister is yelling at me to get up, but I pretend not to hear her through the roaring wind. I stand at my own pace, and then a mischievious thought crosses my mind. The next second, I’m throwing snowballs at her.
“Stop!” she yells, but I laugh and continue to throw snow at her. Her face grows red, either from the snow hitting her face or anger, but then she’s laughing as well. Holding out her hand, I take it. I look back down. The snow is compressed and piled, broken from its pure form.
But I smile. The snow will pile up once more, and the broken, ruined bits will be forgotten. Everything’s okay.