Day 11, and now we come back to storytime. For those of you returning, thank you for making yesterday the most successful day on this blog by far. I know that a follow-up to Friday’s post (which is for a niche audience) may have gone against the variety I want to provide for the 25 Days, and I can assure you that what’s ahead will be as exciting, with longer posts as soon as school is out for me this Friday. The title of this post may be similar to another post I made back in June for the summer, and with winter coming up and another kind of cheer just around the corner, the idea for this post is too good to pass up on.
Hopefully, I did not talk for too long, as our story now begins.
Another trek through the marble valley is done, and now another day in the small wooden cabin. A look outside reveals a wonderland that sprawls across each end of the horizon, shimmering off the sun in an impossible glow. The air is solid and sound is nothing but a gust of wind, but its magnificent beauty gives eternal life to the platinum branches of trees. The rolling hills of silver blanket the ground, as smooth as milk and as pristine as porcelain. Its contrast to the polished wooden floor of the cabin fills the air with a fuzzy warmth, a feeling to be embraced with easy reminders of the past’s simplicity.
First, cocoa. Your mouth is dry and bit with frost, and your fur coat is trenched on layers of sweaters and t-shirts. You feel heavy, as if the pure mounds of snow can become unbalanced with a simple touch of your boots. It reminds you of the past, with your parents watching you slide down hills in the thick shroud of snowflakes, and the snowmen who kindly gazed upon your festive exuberance with a smile that lasted across time. Laughter at snowball fights, and angels that lied down to look up at the silver sky. It was cold, but fur is warmer than the cold, and bliss is warmer than fur. And coming back inside, only to be delighted by the comforting swirl of hot cocoa in your favourite mug. Now, you are your parents, and the silence in the air is the children.
Now what? Work is done, and rest lies ahead. But time runs out, and your velvet chair is your only companion in a burial of dreams and nostalgia. You remember how the spring blossoms, but it leaves winter in the past. Rain drenches the sky, and pours over the cheer of merry times. The snowmen do melt, and their semblance disappears into the earth and from time itself. The ground is left with verdant grass and muddy dirt, neither of which give the soft joy of gripping a million snowflakes. Their designs never repeat, and each one has its own name and story. You will never them out, as you do not have time.
You are lost. Your instincts convince you that the ivory plains of fluff are innocent, but you know the uneasy truth. Blizzards sending death down the spine, and avalanches blanketing the unlucky in an eternal sleep. Sleds carrying men who will die, and animals who have left silence in their wake. The blue horizon carries its semblance of beauty on a featureless white, but this simplicity is too alluring to men. Cocoa brings order to your wandering mind, and your gloves are the only shield between your tools and being forever stuck like ice in a forest of flurries. Yet, you are not lost for this reason. Emotional value holds its weight against reality, as if it were an unseen star in a glorious constellation of purgatory.
No, you are lost because you cannot find your sled. Your cabin may be on the edge of the world, but others come and go on the lonely road. Your sled was once used for a love of thrill and zipping past city lights that guided the night, but now it is your guardian as you pave the way. Winter brings everyone together in many ways, and you know that cooperation is just as effective as the games you relish in. Your sled is streaked with brick reds and emerald greens, with its hard rope of stitched twine that grips onto your hand. However, it is lost, which makes the road lost. And how do you expect to be found?
You do not know despair: winter gives life to your world. It guards memories, but they cannot exist forever. This cabin is your winter, as it no longer snows in the city. People cherish the past, but they alter the future in inconceivable ways. In a way, the sled is not lost, but it is forgotten. You may be forgotten as well, as the road no longer exists. If something is buried, how can one know it is even there in the first place? You know that memories are not eternal, but feelings are. Joy cannot be replicated, but you take pride in keeping the winter.
Instead, the cocoa is your guardian. Warmth may be opposite to the shivering cold of outside, but you still say the same milk weave its way around every crevice and colour of the landscape. Snowmen were your friend, and the winter is as well. The angels gaze up into the stars, and now you realize what they are: snow. And for at least a little while longer, snow is here to stay.
As a sort of ‘winter companion’ to Sand and an Umbrella, (which I encourage you to read as well) I hope you enjoyed this post. Perhaps it made you feel a bit saddened in some places, but I hope the ending had a bittersweet sentiment in it. There will definitely be more stories later this month, so stay tuned for those. Remember to make hot cocoa as well, and don’t get frostbitten.
Until next time. 🙂