Snow

I love snow. I know there's a lot to hate about it, especially if you live in Boston right now and have to use a bucket and a hockey stick stuck in a drift for a mailbox. I've also seen snow turn a typical rush hour commute into an exclusive sneak preview of Armageddon, but I still love it.

Snow purifies. It freezes the dirt on your car and melts it away in the sun. The best part is when it first starts to fall, when it cloaks the world with whiteness only nature can seem to achieve--there's a reason the old hymn goes "make me white as snow." With only the softest sound, it loosens the grip of everyday stress and pain for just a moment. Last week, I had to park my car a mile from my house and walk home just as the latest snowfall began, and something loosened in me as I trudged through the woods. The air thick with flakes, and tree limbs like the white legs of ancient spiders, revealed the holiness in everything. It was like watching manna fall from heaven, and it forced us all to slow down and take a breath. 

This purifying weather perfectly symbolized the events of last week. I've finally moved into my new apartment, where the lights come on and the water runs because I earn the money that helps pay for them. It brings a wonderful sense of pride, despite the fact that I now see little dollar signs floating away every time I turn on a light. I feel like the master of my own tiny world and all its elements. It is tiny, indeed--perhaps, instead of the master of a small universe, I'm more like a monk in his cell. My mattress won't arrive for another two weeks, and I haven't had time to shop for a desk, so I've abandoned these vain delights and taken to sleeping and writing on the floor. This room really has its own kind of zen, which might be due to my roommates burning incense downstairs. However, it also has the feeling of a secluded tower, with its shape and upper story location. It's a humble, yet artistic space, where the only creature comfort currently allowed is that of self-expression. As the English saying goes, a change is as good as a rest, and hopefully this change will only improve my writing and musical pursuits further; I'm already halfway through writing my very first song, and currently beginning another short story. Maybe, now that I've untethered the balloon of my adult life from my childhood home, I can finally fill it with enough hot words to get it off the ground.