Descriptive Essay

The loud annoying buzz from the alarm clock woke me from a deep sleep, begrudgingly I rolled over from my cozy bed on the 16th floor high rise apartment complex on 200 Water Street on the Lower East Side of New York City.   As I wiped my eyes and began to focus on the alarm clock I was disappointed to see that it wasn’t a dream at all and seven A.M. was already here. I slapped the top of the alarm to stop the horrible, almost ear piercing noise it was making to finally make my way over to the window overlooking Wallabout Bay. As I wiped the morning fog off the window which was a common occurrence in the winter due to the wind blowing in off the Bay, my eyes lit up at the sight I seen. Snow!
Snow in and of itself wasn’t anything new or otherwise amazing to a native New Yorker, myself included. In fact New Yorkers have become accustomed to the regular snowfall we receive each winter.   Some of us choose to simply deal with it, like the annoying mosquitoes that we’re all forced to swat at every summer. Others relish every second of snow. They treat it like an early Christmas gift that the illusion of Santa Claus had no part in. Something that seems so unbelievably pure and earnest that snow is almost begging to be loved, begging for acceptance by everybody.
      I was gathering my jacket, hat, and gloves when my mother approached me holding a steaming cup of coffee and told me with a glisten in her eye, “They cancelled school today, snow day.” I raced to finish getting dressed and told her I was going sledding!
      As I stood outside at the bottom step of my apartment complex with both of my arms pressing my sled close up to my chest, the cold wind blew directly into my face, but it felt almost refreshing, the kind of refreshing that only makes sense to a child and his sled. It was at that exact second that something about this snow seemed, in a way, different from all others I had seen before. The way it resembled a firmly pressed white sheet covering an...