Ever since the cool wind hit me in Europe, I’ve been dreaming about a white winter. The exact kind when three layers feels like nothing, a steaming hot cappuccino is actual relief, and gigantic fireplaces host the most romantic nights. I am wishing for the anticipation that swells when you look out your window on a especially frosty morning, crossing your fingers for the slightest bit of snow. I miss the actual task of unravelling a cozy scarf, the insane cold against my cheeks and nose, seeking refuge in a pub for hours just to avoid walking outdoors, and warming your feet against the one you love. Oh winter. How I took you for granted and resented you each year. Now I miss you more than ever.