December 11, 2017

fever and snow

Today I am sick, home from work with a flu-like virus, with a hot mug of broth in hand, leaning against the door frame and staring out at the heavy snowfall and the world turned white. When I have a fever, my thinking slows and I become incapable of participating in the mental bustle, the keeping up with details and schedules and minutiae of everyday life. I'm left with slow, odd observations and my own mere existence, the rest stripped away.

And so I watch the snow fall, and because I am incapable of worrying about driving conditions and school and ice and brown-outs, I step out onto the porch and fully take it in, the whispering flakes and creaking tree branches and the absence of ambient car-sounds in the distance, the uniformity of white that covers our differences. Uniform is like unify. The world is washed, cleansed, purified by clouds that do as they will, unreachable by humanity. The snow is bigger than we are. The snow says, Hush. Listen.

No comments:

Post a Comment