I'm here, in a chair next to the window wall, watching big fluffy flakes fall in the lamplights. So many flakes float downward, settling themselves on the untamed and leaf covered lawn. They are building up and I watch as the autumn ground is slowly covered in a blanket of white. A sort of peace covers the earth as the night turns dark ...
I had to go, to break from life and what is supposed to be; I had to go into the world. I felt the flakes as they floated down into my eyelashes and landed quietly on my tongue. I drank in its glory and a tear fell off my eye, and I felt it's warmth on my cheek. A promise, a hope, that winter will once again cleanse my soul and everything that was wrong shall be right again.
And it shall.
Sunday. At Noon.
The bell will ring, the rope will drop, and all that we have been waiting for will once again.
Winter is here.
And tomorrow we ski.