Tuesday, 10 December 2013

Ode to the snow

He eats the snow, my baby, with that flash of curiousness in his eye, thousands of unique snowflakes in one bite, cold and fresh and tasty. A whole universe in his little mouth. I did the same. Amazing things happen when you follow children. I pressed my hand into the glorious whiteness. It was superbly soft, tempting me to dive in. I resisted. Already cold, I dreaded the chill would reach inside my clothes and wrap itself around my neck and spine. Heavily pregnant, I knew it would take a lifetime to heave myself back to standing. So I stayed on my feet, this time.

Snowflakes sit in Rasmus's messy hair and beard. He seems at ease with the snow and yet admires it still. August and I are a little less settled. Walking awkwardly and maybe more cautiously than necessary we must look out of place. Our eyes constantly blinking as the soft flakes brush our faces. I savour the feeling. The stillness and quietness is surreal. One day the world is grey and overnight it is transformed into something beautiful and enchantingly unrecognizable. Shimmering with a magical effervescence as soon as the sun rays touch or the street lamps pour their golden glow over the ocean of white, it really is something exceptional.  

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