The world is blanketed with white, void of colors and life. Everything is frozen and slick. Icicles pour themselves down from houses and cars. The trees are leafless and covered in a sheet of ice. It almost appears as if the trees had been attempting to pull themselves away from the frigid earth, but were stopped just as they got their taste of the freedom that awaited them. The winter is a wonderful wasteland.
In winter, everything either dies, or goes into hibernation. The plants, for example, either killed themselves or were killed by snow covering them. Because of this, most plant-eating animals have a much harder time trying to find their food. Ironically, even though it is the deadest season of the year, winter is very bright. It glistens and sparkles when the sun pulls its way from the clouds and shines its light all around. Sometimes, it is so bright it threatens to blind me. All of that makes me believe that winter is telling me that life is fleeting, and I should not get too careless or else it will steal the breath from my lips. Winter covers everything in either snow or ice, and to me that is beautiful. I love the way ice looks on everything, especially roads. In winter, the roads freeze up, and this causes many accidents. I like accidents. Especially when the cars get thrown haphazardly on the snow, and blood pools out around the vehicles and is splattered all around. There is a stark contrast: snow, astonishingly white and pure, in all its glory becomes marred with the deep crimson of blood, and that sight is both sickening, and stunning at the same time. I never want to look away.
Albeit harsh and sometimes cruel, winter likes to kill peacefully. I remember one time, I had a rabbit. Eika I think her name was, was dying. I remember holding the rabbit, having already done everything possible to save it, until its death, giving it some comfort in its final moments; I believe winter kills in a very similar manner. Occasionally (I never do this often since it is dangerous) I lie in the snow, and lie there while even more snow covers me. Yes, it is cold, but I very much like the feel of lying on the soft-cushioned snow. When I lie there long enough, as I sometimes do, my eyes become unfocused and I see everything, but not taking in anything but the feeling of world around me. The cold I had been feeling up to that point begins to ebb away, only to be replaced by soft warmth that slowly branches out from the pit of my stomach to grab onto the outermost flesh. In this moment I usually want to close my eyes and just let sleep take over me, but I know better. If I were to do that, there would be a good chance that I wouldn’t ever wake up again. This is when I move, and the feeling of cold bombards me once more. I feel the falling snow land on my face like tiny pinpricks.
Winter is silent, ever the listener. When I go outside, I can almost hear the silence, but in reality winter is singing. When I listen closely, I can hear the wind howling, winding its way throughout the desolate streets. I can hear the sound of water slowly dripping from the icicles, making a plunk, plunk, plunk noise. When I walk out into the snow, it crunches as if groaning from the unwanted weight. Quite often I would hear the sound of children laughing. I assume that they are playing in the snow, as children do. I would always smile to myself as I hear the noise, and would think back on the days when I was young, building an army of tiny snowmen to wage war upon my sister’s own army. When I remember this, I would let out a chuckle. She only won because she had a giant snowman on her side as well.
Winter is cruel and harsh, but yet it is also calming and serene. It likes to leave the world bleak and desolate; when spring comes around, it gives way to new life, new beginnings, and brings forth a splendor of vibrant colors. Often, a vibrant green is shown underneath the snow as it begins to slowly melt away. I enjoy watching the snow melt, because when the snow melts to water, I feel as if it is cleansing the world of life.
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