Monday, December 8, 2008

Letters Home: Section 1, Letter dated December 8

December 8
Katrina,



The snow is falling heavily, an icy veil of white outside the window that blows in the wind like the sails of a ship on the open ocean. How beautiful it is to know that when the snow settles the world outside will be a sea of white, snowflakes shaking the hands of the trees and embracing the rooftops while icicles hang from the eaves as if they’re waving to the ground below.



The world is at peace in moments like this, when truth falls to the Earth from the clouds above, finding its way into the smallest of hidden crevices, making its way into the hearts of all. Wolves will peak out from their homes, looking up into the snowy air, shaking their heads and brushing their noses with their paws as cold flakes fall upon them, and then running through the snow as if playing in the rain of white and trying to catch snowflakes in their mouths. Bears will wake from their winter slumber momentarily, yawning as they make their way to view the snow falling from above, and smiling as they return to their seasonal sleep with fluid dreams of snow falling upon them as they slide down mountainsides in glee. Humans who have long since forgotten the joy of life will find it again in the snow, laughing as they fall to the ground to make snow angels, enter into friendly snowball fights, make men made of snow, or simply share a hot cocoa kiss as two hearts walk at twilight, holding hands with the love of their life and laughing as they remember the snow games from earlier in the day.



The Earth rests in its blanket of white, sleeping peacefully, calmly, and dreaming of the future. But, the Earth knows that the future does not live in the next season in rotation or in the next new year. Rather, the future lives in each new moment, each new breath, and it is waiting for us with great hope and expectation, with smiles of dreams and plans and laughter. Yes, the future is waiting for us, waiting for us all.



Forever,
Christina




This work is fictional. Any resemblance to actual situations or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional.



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