Thinking back to the snowy days of January 2025 brings a smile to my face. My daughter and I braved the cold to walk to the LSU lakes, bundled up and ready for adventure. We built a snowman, and each moment felt like magic. But one memory stands out the most. It was the morning after the big snowfall, a day that changed everything in south Louisiana.
That morning, I got ready for work as usual. But instead of rushing through my routine, I paused at my bathroom window. My view of our small backyard may not be much, but in winter, the long shadows of bare trees create a beautiful scene. I often glimpse the sun rising over the LSU lakes, bathing everything in warm light.
I’ve heard that looking into the morning sun can be good for the eyes, so most days, I open that window and take in the view. But on that still, snowy morning, something felt different. Usually, the morning is bustling with activity. Cars speed past, people walk along the lakes, and buses bounce toward campus. It’s a lively sight. But that day was eerily calm.
As I looked out at the snow-covered landscape, I hesitated to push the window open. With the chill in the air, I thought twice. But then I figured, why not? As soon as I opened the window, I was struck by a surprising silence. It was quiet—so quiet I could hardly believe it.
No birds chirped. No cars drove by. Not a soul was talking. It was the quietest moment I could remember, and it filled me with a sense of peace. I smiled, thinking back to a story I read as a kid about a noisy prince named Hulla-Baloo. He lived in a city filled with noise and loved every ruckus he could make. For his birthday, he asked his father, the king, to create the loudest noise ever. However, during the celebration, everyone chose to be silent. They wanted to experience the moment fully, and that quiet changed everything for the prince and his kingdom.
Standing there by my window, I understood the prince’s transformation. In a world that thrives on noise, that moment of stillness brought a sense of calm that I hadn’t felt in ages. It was refreshing, soothing for my ears and my soul.
As the cold air flowed in, I savored the magic of that instant. I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but I wished it could. Gradually, I heard a car passing in the distance and the crunch of snow underfoot. Then a bird broke the silence with a timid song, but soon, quiet enveloped me again. Somewhere far away, laughter rang out. It was warm and bright, a lovely contrast to the cold morning. In the stillness, sound travels in unexpected ways, and every noise felt like a gift.
The snow has melted, and life has returned to its normal pace. The usual hustle and bustle are back, but that beautiful, quiet morning remains with me. It serves as a gentle reminder that in the rush of life, we can find moments of stillness. Those fleeting bits of quietness help us listen—not just to the world around us but to the quiet within ourselves.