When snow covers the ground, things start coming to mind. You wonder how people find a way to quit. You think of a veteran athlete that has trained her whole life to win Olympic gold. And as many games came and went it eventually became painfully clear that the chance had finally passed for good.
When snow covers the ground, you find entertainment in trying to imagine. You mentally pull that trigger, push off that window sill, let that water fill the lungs, feel the eyelids get heavy from those sleeping pills. But it gets boring quickly and you concentrate on just seeing the snow.
When snow covers the ground, you can look at it for a long time. You don’t notice the moment when the snow molds into that face, intent, bothered, concerned, loving – what’s wrong, don’t cry, I’m here. It is somewhat washed out, kind of like a watercolor. Is that because you are seeing it through your tears? The watercolor face loves you no matter what. Guilt comes in on soft paws and gets cozy. How immortal is love?
When snow covers the ground, many things go unnoticed underneath. You find comfort in not having to notice the motions of life. You want the snow to just stay there forever. There is this special kind of quiet in the air, with a slight hue of bluish grey, the only sound potentially being the ticking of the clock. Oh, but you do not have a clock. You could never find one to fit your interior. So there is nothing to listen to except the silence of the snow. And that may be for the better.
You can just stand there in the darkening room and feel how the long-awaited moment is about to become real. You feel the guilt dissolve in the washed-out watercolor shades. You recall the depressing thoughts that used to occupy your mind and you smile. Those Olympics – how many of them were there? You don’t care. You’re free now. It’s a good thing you never bought that clock. There is a better way to know the only true time. That time is when snow covers the ground.