The snow fell softly against the windowpane,swirling and whispering against the glass as it settled to the street below,a soft white carpet of silent,glittering whiteness.Nothing moved beyond the glass,and only a few lights were visible here and there among the other buildings across the street.The lone figure behind the glass withdrew with a small sigh,wiping delicate hands on a towel the color of the snow before pulling a soft blue curtain across the empty view.
The weather forecast the night before,of course,had made no mention of snow,or even of overly cold weather,and plans had been eagerly made for that morning,most of which the owner of the panes of glass had been looking forward to for quite some time,only to find them abruptly canceled,and with little advance warning,other than a few errant snowflakes earlier in the day.
This person now stood in her study,idly running tapered fingers over the brightly colored volumes lining the bookshelves,not really reading them,rather delighting in the bright colors themselves,the memories attatched to the books.Her features were plain,her gray eyes somber,but twinkling now and then when her fingers touched this or that book,sometimes a slight smile curving the corners of her thin mouth when a remembered picture or illustration caught her eye.
The deep,mellow chime of a grandfather clock in the hallway announced the noon hour,and she paused,smoothing a stray lock of salted brown hair from her face before walking the few steps from study to kitchen,footfalls soft against the patterned rug on the hardwood floors.A few moments of preparation and her lunch was ready,a simple meal of bread and meat and cheese,nothing fancy,but then she had never been known as a ‘fancy’ person.
Outside her bay window,the snow continued to fall,the flakes larger and farther in between,and for a moment,she thought she could see the actual patterns of the snowflakes closest to the windows,dismissed this as fantasy with a shake of the head.She settled down on the couch,eyeing the television briefly,then disregarded it,opting to listen to the radio instead.
Soft,peaceful music filled the small room,and her gaze fell upon a smiling face in a picture frame on an opposite table-firm features,sharp blue eyes and a laughing mouth,and for a moment,pain clouded her eyes.She blinked a few times,turned away and then back,forcing her attention back to the book she’d just picked up.
She had been alone for several years at this point,and used to peace,solitude,and time to think,to read,and snow on her windowpane.She always vowed to put the photograph away,but never could bring herself to do it,for some reason.
Winter had always been her favorite season,it still was.But she could remember when her winters had been busy with the sounds of laughter,shouting,and little hands,feet,and hugs.Where had it gone…and more importantly,lately…when would it be back?
She pushed the thoughts aside,became lost in her reading,became lost in the book,unaware of her surroundings until some part of her became aware the sun had gone down.Startled,she looked out of the bay window,to find only a few lazy flakes floating past,and a bright moon shining down on the street below,casting a brilliant light,making the snow sparkle and glitter like diamonds.
She smiled to herself,quietly put the book aside,went back to her original post beside the window panes,just as she had for the past several years,content.
I suppose if one really wants to,they can write their own winters tale,don’t you?