In the middle of the worst winter weather yet this year, I yearned for a break. Spring is too far away; cabin fever becoming an incurable condition festering in my heart. Feeling stuck - being stuck...I wanted to scream. Will spring be enough to cure this disease that is taking hold? I wonder as I sit and watch the snow fall and cover my car again. For a minute I forget where I am and pretend that the snow is not an annoyance.
The trees are covered in white. Soft moonlight hits the trees and the shimmer from the branches catches my eye. The light seems to create a path for my eyes beyond my yard to see the children across the street - up late in hope of a snow day. They have a carrot and are placing it just between the black specks on the snowman's face. His eyes seem to suggest more to the snow than a human being could imagine. Something magical begging him to belong in a world where he cannot exist. His creators play alongside him and he seems to smile at them all the while maintaining his magical knowledge. The secrets of snow. They fall from above in every flake, like whispers from a mother to her infant, fast asleep. Words that only the snow understands. Messages from the sky to the ground. Stepping into the scene, motionless. If I am calm enough, I might catch a secret or two. This is amazing. Snow is beautiful!
Beautiful? It sounded like a question, even in my daydream. How can this hazardous substance which makes the roads less traveled death traps be beautiful? The shock woke me and I wasn't daydreaming. My car is in the garage and I am in bed. The magic left and the snow was still outside my window getting deeper by the minute. The commute in the morning would be long and I'll still be going alone.
The trees are covered in white. Soft moonlight hits the trees and the shimmer from the branches catches my eye. The light seems to create a path for my eyes beyond my yard to see the children across the street - up late in hope of a snow day. They have a carrot and are placing it just between the black specks on the snowman's face. His eyes seem to suggest more to the snow than a human being could imagine. Something magical begging him to belong in a world where he cannot exist. His creators play alongside him and he seems to smile at them all the while maintaining his magical knowledge. The secrets of snow. They fall from above in every flake, like whispers from a mother to her infant, fast asleep. Words that only the snow understands. Messages from the sky to the ground. Stepping into the scene, motionless. If I am calm enough, I might catch a secret or two. This is amazing. Snow is beautiful!
Beautiful? It sounded like a question, even in my daydream. How can this hazardous substance which makes the roads less traveled death traps be beautiful? The shock woke me and I wasn't daydreaming. My car is in the garage and I am in bed. The magic left and the snow was still outside my window getting deeper by the minute. The commute in the morning would be long and I'll still be going alone.
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