Marcel Winatschek

First Snow

The snow came, which means I’m immediately thinking about the Muppet Christmas Carol—the one where Kermit is Scrooge. It’s my dumbest comfort object. Last year when it first snowed we’d just gotten back from Prague, which feels impossible now. A whole year. Now the snow is here again and December is actually happening.

There’s something about that first real snowfall that makes you hunt through everything for Christmas movies. You know exactly where they are. You know you’ve watched them a hundred times. You pull them out anyway. Same ritual every year.

Snow is only good if you’re not waiting at a bus stop at six in the morning—which, naturally, is what I do. But from inside with the heat on and something familiar playing, it’s perfect. That’s the whole thing.