Snow walk

It has been a pretty uneventful few days staying with my aunt. They are extremely hospitable and kind, but a lot of the time we spent walking around big supermarkets shopping and then eating. Meat. A lot of red meat, which meant out of politeness I had to quit as a part-time vegetarian. Even if the smell of pork and beef boiling in the fondue was at times nauseating.

I wanted to talk, bond and share life as family usually do. Instead, almost constantly my cousin insisted that we play video games, while my aunt and uncle watched crappy soap series and online talk shows. The snow storm and cold over the weekend didn’t really help, and at some point I was actually counting the hours till I leave.

So this afternoon, I strode in the snow and went exploring behind their property, which spans some 2 acres into a wooded area. Seeing the serene nature and beauty made me wonder why they spend most of the time cooped up inside, instead of savouring the gift of fresh, open air and spaces that nature has to offer.

I followed the trail, which became a track that led into the woods. Droppings of deer littered the fresh coat of snow, black pellets against a smooth, fine white. It was cold, but the afternoon sun felt graceful against my cheeks. The wind blew strong at first, and almost as if it was too embarassed to disturb the quietness of nature, stopped breathing altogether. I looked around, at the frozen landscape of barren trees, shrubs, and unspoiled wilderness. A winding brook silently and gently carved its way into the distance.

I could live here, I thought to myself. I could lose myself in this great big world, away from the noises, away from the haunting memories of the past, away from uncertainties of the future, away from the troubles and worries, and surround myself with the humility and preciousness of each and every moment. One day I want to live here, out here, and be with nature.

I stood still, my eyes adjusting to the golden glow of the sun pouring over the soft, white blanket all around. With a stick I started to draw and write. Words, short, sweet sentences, hopes and wishes...

On my way back, the words and messages I had written in the snow had faded. The wind, like a naughty invisible finger, had smudged the writing, and soon all I had written will be lost.

Except, I know what I wrote. And the earth could read what I wrote. If only for a little while.