I’ve always been a winter person. Something about the season has appealed to me again and again. I love how the air is always so crisp and mystifying, and the way the world transforms — the way the windows freeze, the way the snow mist dances on the pavement, and the snow itself.

It was 6:30 p.m. Saturday, and the chess team and I had just obtained our second-place trophy at the West Chicago Open Team Tournament. We were ready to leave and begin our three-hour drive from Chicago back to Champaign. However, the moment we exited the building, we were immediately struck by a huge gust of wind, and we saw that the landscape was covered in a layer of white.