The impermanence of things

The snow winds its way around the fire escape and I curl into the blanket a little more. I feel safe, warm. My mind wanders to memories of snow pants and snow boots, little kids looking like bundled up fire hydrants or minions. The inevitable thrill of that brisk blast of cold air on our cheeks as we emerge into the snowy winter sky for the first time that year. The magic held in each snowflake. The mugs of hot chocolate, the cozy fires. The traditions of childhood. Rites of passage for parents and children alike. The importance of family. Even if they aren’t here. Everything bends and melts. Remember when we used to hope for snow days? Remember when going to school was a regular thing?

Time is melting and bending again. Remember when a year ago we held such high hopes for 2020? How it was to be the year of “vision” and “clarity”? Remember when we thought it would all be ok if we could just make it to 2020? Here we are, more warped and bent than we ever thought we could be. This year has been the ultimate experiment in patience and gratitude amidst such profound change, fear and uncertainty. 

The snow keeps falling creating little white stripes along the fire escape steps, as if an enticing invitation to keep dreaming. I look up to the top step framed against the gray sky, the wind is blowing the seemingly chilly, bare branches and the telephone wires look weary as they submit to the swirl of snow around them. The cat curls into me as if she knows the emotional tug of the first snow. The inevitable thoughts of our own childhoods combined with those of our own children. How magic belongs to all of us and how we have learned the importance of finding it in the littlest things in the unlikeliest of places.

Here’s to the magical bending and melting of snowflakes and their perfect reminder of the impermanence of things. Be grateful. Love each other. Be kind.