Ever since I was a little girl, there’s been something about the tale of Jack Frost that’s intrigued me. Ask me not how it got into my mind, but I’ve always remembered a certain fondness held for the crystals that formed on the limbs of the aspens and atop the blankets of snow in the morning. Even when it pained me to breathe, I remember savoring the moments when I waited at my bus stop all bundled and warm, watching my breath spiral in front of me like it was alive, or as if it were a riddle for me to solve with my eyes. And ever since there was a name put to the riddle, I’ve loved it with all my heart.

That name was Jack Frost. A trouble-maker at heart, but never with any harmful intentions, I was told that Jack would travel across the lands at night, painting the trees and bushes with thin sparkles with just a brush of the fingertips. He was a true artist, etching intricate patterns on windows and leaves with the paintbrush he carried around with him. When we venture further into old lore, Frost actually proves to be quite the wicked sprite; although he is normally quite friendly, if he is aggravated, he kills his offenders by burying them in snow. Just like the cold flakes of winter, Frost could prove to be lethal as well as pleasant.

This, however, was not the Jack Frost I knew. Yes, from time to time he would pull the world from beneath my feet and cause me to crash on ice, and sometimes he caused me to catch a cold and kept me bedridden for the weekend. But the real Jack Frost that I loved so dearly was a bit more than a trouble maker. He was an artist, a sort of angel whose greatest purpose was to create joy and fun, perhaps even a bit of true beauty where many typically saw none. I found it pleasurable to think that he was the only one who was able to make walking outside an enjoyable activity.

Now, what does this have to do with us, right here and right now? First off, I would like to point out that my favorite “angel” has returned to the earth. His sister, the one who drips dew on our lawns in the summer nights, has swapped places with him. This is perhaps one of the most magical times of the year; we should all remember this every time we look out our frosted windows.

What’s more, it is always important to focus on the magical things in our lives. Often at school, we try to avoid all things “irrational” or “unrealistic”, one of these things being magic. No sane science teacher is going to give you credit if you answer, “Why is such and such bond ionic?” with, “Magic.” Honestly, if at any time we try to apply magic to our academics, we’re going to get a big fat F and get sent to a counselor. And what more is there to school than academics?

Much more. There are so many things we have to tribute to magic when it comes to relationships. The feelings we get when we are with each other, even when we find that special someone for the first time, can never be explained by scientific formulas or math equations. Humans are naturally in a constant dissonance with themselves. There are so many things we know to be right or wrong, logical or illogical, good or bad, yet we do the opposite anyway. There are many things which only humans have that make no sense in the natural world, which contradict with the animal instincts of self-preservation and nature’s own law of survival of the fittest. Things such as courage and mercy and self-sacrifice should make no sense in nature. But they happen every day. This, my friends, is the magic of the world.

It is sad that we overlook this beauty. That we try to confine our world into such a small box of what we understand is a true tragedy. But there are still those, such as I, who believe in the beauty of humanity and nature. There are still many who believe in illogical myths such as Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. This is magic.

 Jack Frost is one of those myths to many. But the fact that he will always be real for me, a constant angel of chill and painter of the world, gives me the assurance that I will always believe in magic. I owe dear Jack an ode for that, I suppose.