The Winter I Met in Iceland
Sometimes, I look back on that winter.
The wind was sharp enough to slice through skin, and the whole place felt like it had carved me out of reality and dropped me into another world.
When I stepped out into the snowstorm at dawn to buy a parking ticket, I often felt as though I was standing at the end of the earth. It was as if the depression and worries I’d smuggled onto the plane, stuffed alongside my luggage, were being washed away by the cold and snow.
That January — when I rented a car for the first time, drove for over two hours through weather no one should be outside in, and wandered around Reykjavík with my shoulders hunched against the cold — became a journey I’ll never forget.
Of course, it wasn’t perfect.
I crashed into a road sign and handed over nearly 1.8 million won to the rental company. I lost touch with the friend I’d flown there with.
But travel has a way of editing memories. Even the losses get wrapped in something beautiful.
And maybe, if not for those losses, I wouldn’t be who I am now.
We learn height by scraping our knees. We learn fire by burning our hands.
Temporary pain, brief setbacks. They’re like the winding of a spring, ready to push us forward again.
So maybe that winter wasn’t just a trip.
Maybe it was preparation. A few steps back so I could walk a little farther.
It wasn’t the only time, of course.
In my twenty-something years, I’ve stumbled and broken more times than I can count. There were countless moments that pinned me down — like an Icelandic snowstorm at daybreak — but the wind always stopped eventually. And somehow, I always got back up. Maybe it’s those very stumbles that let me recognize peace when it returns.
After the trip, I returned to my dark, quiet, one-room apartment. It was nothing like the dazzling glory of nature I’d just witnessed. But still, somehow, I found comfort in it.
The next morning, I woke earlier than usual. And there on the left wall, the moonlight rippled like waves. It felt like I had gone back to before I was even born.
