Snow Globe

There’s something to be said about living in a snow globe. How the white all melts into itself and you can’t tell land from sky from clouds. The snow greets you like an old friend, gently kissing your face with wetness, as it reminds you that though you may have forgotten it in those balmy summer months, it has not forsaken you.

And it nests snuggly-as-a-baby-bird in your hair, clouds your vision by clinging sweet-temperedly onto your eyelashes, taste like winter on your tongue. You’d be frozen stiff except for the warmth of friendship that surrounds you, like a wool blanket that wraps around your soul at least three times and nuzzles softly against your cheeks, the warmth of your own breath an internal heating system that circulates throughout.

There’s a love language flurrying around spoken in smiles and guffaws and giggles and smirks. Embraces you, warms you, slides slowly down your throat into your belly. In those precious moments swept away by whiteness and winter and cold and dear friends, you are the snow princess, ruling her kingdom, living in her snow globe. The bubble that surrounds your globe is impenetrable, and the flurries that whisk you away are made of simple whiteness and nothing more.

It is the prettiest side of winter. The side that goes on post cards and gets dreamed about by sleepy children on their way to school wishing for a snow day. It is nothing short of magic.

And you can’t be more grateful to be alive, to have warm blood coursing through your body. You look up, your eyes lift towards the heavens as they continue to salt-shaker down the snow that surrounds, that reminds, that makes you so grateful to be a part of the simple white magic.

This is your winter.

Your snow globe.

And it’s beautiful.