It’s snowing. In the minds of us who live by the calendar, it’s spring and therefore the white stuff is supposed to be gone and not come back until next year.
But nature is not a follower of human invention, and does not abide by clocks and calendars. It does not define its behavior by our measure of time but by its own. We forget — our tools are our tools invented to serve us. Nature serves no one, even though we like to think we can harness her like a horse to a plow.
The trees are turning white now. An hour ago I spied the first little flurries teasing their way to the ground, and now I’m watching full snow flakes dancing and bumping into each other as they hurry, as on a mission, to cover the green in white. And they are succeeding.
How I love my snow! How it lifts my heart! How can something so cold warm me so well, like soup hitting the stomach, spreading outward, a silent explosion of warmth on a cold winter’s night? I smile at snow falling, warm all over from the inside out.
The railings leading up to my tiny backyard deck, catches the snow like open arms of welcome. Snowflakes rush to its embrace, layer by thin layer.
My heart had been hurting. I smiled on the outside, but in the night with no need to portray anything to anyone, no work to be done, no need to keep moving, I lied there swallowed up in pain. Too many triggers in too small a space of time, I was overwhelmed.
Someone heard me. Am I that vain to think this snow is falling just for me? Yes. Oh, I know better, but I will believe it just the same. It comforts me to see the snow falling, the white crystalline peace I could not feel or see.
I don’t know how long this snow will fall. But I have memorized it. I can see it with my eyes closed. I needed to remember. I have been reminded.
And when the dark naked night descends again, I can remember again.
I will be all right.