Disclaimer: This … prose is mine, no one else’s. So don’t steal … as if you’d want to, anyway.

Author’s Note: This came to me suddenly today, a spur of the moment plot bunny. This goes out to all those winter/Christmas lovers out there. For those who are wondering, no, “Winter” is not autobiographical.

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When the leaves fall from trees to the ground in crinkly yellow, red, brown and orange silhouettes, I’ll know it’s winter.

When the trees turn scraggly and thin from the cold and the leaves falling, I’ll know it’s winter.

When the snow and ice envelop the whole world in a cloud of whiteness and pureness, and all my eyes can see is snow making everything seem more beautiful than usual, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see people of all ages running, shouting and playing in the snow, forming snowballs, snowmen and snow angels, and laughing as if they had all the joy in the world, I’ll know it’s winter.

When the ground freezes and I feel nothing but smooth slipperiness underneath my feet, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see couples and families of every kind skate on the ice, and bring laughter and enjoyment, I feel a twinge of envy, and I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see stockings lined up neatly in a row hanging from a fireplace mantle, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see the Salvation Army asking for donations outside grocery stores, with the ever familiar rueful ring of a bell, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see decorations of all sizes and shapes hanging in malls and in stores, I’ll know it’s winter.

When gifts of every shape imaginable are kept under a tree, to wait to be opened by the gleeful and disappointed eyes of children and grown ups alike, I’ll know it’s winter.

When Christmas lights are hung on the outsides of houses, making a colorful tapestry of brightness and variety in the landscape, I’ll know it’s winter.

When family reunions are happening and gift exchanges are done, either bringing a smile or frown to someone’s face, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I hear the ever recognizable tunes of “Sleigh Ride,” “Winter Wonderland,” “Silver Bells,” “Frosty the Snowman,” and many more, on the radio, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see parents sacrificing money and prized possessions so to give their loved ones something, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I hear dark, dreary tales of Christmas ghosts, Ebenezer Scrooges and little match girls, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see a proud grandpa telling his beloved grandchildren tales from his childhood, and stories only he knows that delight and fascinate the little ones to no end, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see people sharing hot cocoa together while warming themselves in front of a warm fireplace, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I hear “O Holy Night” at nearby chapels glistening with snow and fogged over stained glass windows, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see snowball fights and mistletoe, I’ll know it’s winter.

When snowflakes fall gently, enchanting everyone with their different, intricate shapes, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I hear Christmas carols on the doorsteps of people wanting to listen and seep in the joy from the carols being sung, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I feel the soft warmth of a glove or mitten being fitted over my hand, in anticipation of the freezing cold and storms, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see families being brought together, even for one day or a week or less than three days, I’ll know it’s winter.

When a picture of myself and my dad cleaning my mother’s Nissan Stanza is uncovered, I can’t help but smile, and I’ll know it’s winter.

When students try not to jump impatiently while waiting for the last final bell to ring, signaling Christmas break, and then when the fateful ring is heard, they leap out of their seats and run out of the classroom, eager to go home, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I lose a glove or mitten, and can never find it, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I breathe, and see mist or steam evaporating in the air, reminding me of how cold it is, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I hear melancholy tales and songs of loss, suffering, tragedy and woe, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see people lining up in a long curving procession at the nearby soup kitchen, waiting to get a bite of food, I’ll know it’s winter.

When it’s all stillness and silence everywhere around me, I’ll know it’s winter.

When my family relaxes and we have a good time making jokes over dinner, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I look out the window and think of the world’s problems, then I see people outside reveling in the snow and playing and having fun, I’ll know to forget my problems and just indulge in the moment and live … and I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see death and wretched sobs, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see a person dropping a coin in a charity box, I’ll know it’s winter.

When my friends volunteer to help keep the town safe and help out at the local community center, I’ll know it’s winter.

When my fellow students panic and study at the last minute, trying to cram everything they learned in five and a half months all in one night, for the midterm exams, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I feel the cool whoosh of wind hitting my face, waking me up if I’m asleep, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I feel giddiness and euphoria the instant two letters, possibly even three, come from school, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I hear the soft refrains of a melody and a lullaby on the radio or in my head, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see families clustered together, playing music, doing anything together to celebrate the time they have together, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I hear of miraculous stories on the TV or in Reader’s Digest, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I know everything will be alright, with hope thrilling in my veins, I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see gifts being passed around generously to those who can’t afford anything or don’t know what to buy, courtesy of the “Neighborhood Santa Claus” and his “helpers,” I’ll know it’s winter.

When I see and hear and feel that everyone and everything is happy and secure, I’ll know it’s winter …

… Since winter is the season of hope and happiness.

And I’ll always know it’s winterby the tears, smiles and laughter that are shared.