I sprinted down the many steps to our living room, adrenaline and anticipation fueling my efforts. At the bottom of the stairs, my breath came in ragged gasps as my feet pounded on the floor. Dashing towards the window, I flung open the curtains and eagerly looked out the window—but what met my jovial gaze disappointed me.

An array of dull lights casting flickering shadows across my lawn, Christmas ornaments from a neighbor, was the only sight I saw. A cluster of movement to the left caught my eye, and I gleefully smiled—but it was only a raging gust of wind, blowing an assortment of dead and crinkled brown and gray leaves across my deck. The knot of fir trees in my yard swayed roughly in the gale as the first blotches of sunlight pierced through the thickly-knotted hedge.

Yet there was no sign of the pristine winter wonderland yesterday’s weather forecast had predicted. My lawn—in fact, my whole house—was bare of even a single miniscule fleck of white snow. Why? Why, why, why? I questioned myself over and over again, frightened and confused by my observations.

I rubbed my eyes, convinced that the barren landscape was just a devious illusion. It had to have snowed during the night--it just had to have! But when I opened my eyes, the same forlorn landscape was still present, seemingly snickering in defiance. I felt a single tear plop onto my nose, gently splashing onto the floor with what seemed like a sigh. Its watery trail left behind a salty, bitter taste—the taste of impeded hope.

With a doleful sigh, I turned back towards the stairs. My heart was heavy, my face covered in the light rain of my tears. My footsteps were grave as I trudged disconsolately up the stairs...but out of the corner of my eye, I caught the faintest blur of distorted white. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, installing an illusion to nullify my disappointment—but no, it was real and it was there: the first pristine snowflake of Christmas. We were going to have a white Christmas after all.