I spent my first year in this country at Raleigh, North Carolina. There was nothing much I could be proud of at that time except that I was pursuing a degree in mathematics, even though I had a fundamentally different background in my undergraduate years. Life was busy and hazy there as I can recall now. Soon after the beginning of the fall, the days became shorter and dimmer and the winter was ready to settle in. Being still a stranger to that environment, I did not need the lower outdoor temperature to tell me how cold I felt deep in my heart.
It was a day when I was, as usual, sitting at my desk in the office to work on my homework. One of my classmates walked in and interrupted me. “Are you still sitting there?” said she, “Don’t you know what is happening outside now?” I must have responded to her with my puzzled face, which had not been adapted to English conversations so well yet. “Look for yourself!” She said and rubbed the window pane a little bit for me. Ah, it was snowing there! The first snow I had ever seen in my whole life! It was a stormy snow that the sky was darkened and yet people were still walking in it with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. I stayed there watching for a while until it was time for the next class. As I sat in the windowless classroom, I could still feel the cool air with rich moisture blowing in whenever someone stood at the door and wiped snow from their shoulders. Then the class began. Only a brief silence now and then helped me to imagine the snow still falling outside soundlessly.
When I finished all the classes on that day and walked for home, the snow storm, so rare in the South, was already over. The ground paved with red bricks was now covered with snow. Only a few paths had been cut by shovelers. Some students were battling each other with snow balls. All of a sudden, I had a sentimental feeling in my heart. I began to have a desire to write my friends about the scene I was watching. I rushed home and wrote letters while my eyeglasses were still clouded with room steam.
Years later I still have not received any response from my friends about the things I wrote them on that evening. But this piece of memory remains in my mind and is ready to be released whenever a snow falls onto the ground again.