A Letter of Farewells

snow-roadsWinter, you have kept me cold but still. This is what I needed most. I look outside to see the snow’s glutinous majesty and the trees bowing in reverence to my solitude. This is it, I think, this is the end of something for me.

I hear the trees moan in affirmation. They are heavy with flurry and hard ice. Their trajectory to the earth is announced by cracking sounds followed with thankful snow-pelted thuds.  I, too, have fallen many times over the past  year, just like these overburdened tree limbs. Perhaps my descents were silent, yet they whispered in tones of grace and gratitude.

Snow, this is your last stand of the season and it is your most splendid performance: you display opulent purity. You will melt away by tomorrow’s end, and this will be the full stop to one long, run-on sentence in my life. I am sad to see you go. The turning away is never easy. As you wash into the earth, you will remove parts of me from myself. You will steal the coldness and stillness of this season to leave me ripe for bloom.

This is it, I realize, this is the end of something that I must bid farewell.

The sun will come out tomorrow. I am already warmer than I was this time last year. Everyone I know has incubated this winter; has silently professed that when the Spring comes, they will be better versions of themselves.

I understand the syntax of these moments and the transformative grammars that await. You are not who you once were, suggests the coming Spring, now go out into the world and become who you are supposed to be.  Write a new world for yourself. 

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