The Snow is Light

When I was younger I loved the snow. I'd go sledding with neighborhood friends and build snowmen and catch snowflakes on my tongue and then run back in the house and drink warm hot chocolate. I liked when the snow first came down and there was only whiteness everywhere, the sky blended in with the earth, it always felt like the opposite of death to me. The snow is light. It is saturated with luminosity, it shimmers, it almost blinds you. It hurts to look at something that beautiful and pure but it too is frightening or at least it became frightening after my father died. That's when I saw death and terror in everything, even the things I used to love. I've never loved the snow quite like I did as a child. Back then it was new and wondrous, like most things when you're young. Now I see it more as a burden. The ice coats my window and I can't see through it. The sidewalks are dangerous. The cold is brutal.