I had just taken Step 1 and was back home in Vancouver, Canada. After a month of studying, it was time for a break. It had snowed heavily the night before, and I decided to make something I hadn’t made since middle school—a snow sculpture. It took the whole day, but I eventually finished this grizzly bear. My family, including my mom, my grandparents, and my dog came to take photos beside it in the late afternoon sun. My stoic grandpa, who has never been impressed by anything, even gave me a curt nod and patted me on the back. Why did it feel so good to spend a precious day off on something totally frivolous (and not to mention, something that would melt by Friday)? Maybe it was because it was a relief to no longer have a big test hanging over my head, maybe it was because I got 11 blissful hours of sleep, or perhaps it was simply because it was the first time in a long while that I got to be a kid again. I thought back to the joy I felt opening my childhood curtains to a quiet world blanketed by snow, and I made a promise to make room for more “snow days”—even if I’m thousands of miles away, even if life has other demands, and even if it isn’t snowing.
