The First Winter

I didn’t think the cold would affect me like this. I expected the weather to be different, but I thought it was something I would get used to quickly. I had the right clothes, I had prepared in the way people told me to. But knowing about winter and actually living through it turned out to be very different things.

The first thing I noticed wasn’t even the temperature. It was the quiet. Back home, mornings had movement and noise, people talking, cars passing, something always happening. Here, everything felt still in a way I wasn’t used to, almost like the day started slower.

I remember standing outside one morning, watching my breath in the air. At first it felt new, almost interesting, something to observe. But after a few weeks, it stopped being interesting and started becoming something I had to deal with every day.

Everything became slightly harder without me noticing at first. Getting out of bed, stepping outside, even walking felt different. The cold wasn’t just outside, it stayed with you, and it changed how you moved through the day.

I didn’t talk about it much. When people asked how I was doing, I said I was fine, and in many ways I was. But there was a part of the experience I didn’t know how to explain, the quiet adjustment to a life that didn’t feel familiar yet.