I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

The crystal snow was falling lightly, forming a fog of intermittent white. The streetlight I walked by sent out a beam of light, sending shimmering glints into my newly opened eyes. I had never seen nature so clearly, its beautiful splendor was all mine. As I breathed in a deep, cool breath, I never felt so alive. I never smiled so wide as I did; Never quite loved life so much.

I live in San Francisco now, where it never snows and never really gets below freezing. Can’t say that I miss winter, but I do miss moments like this.