I watched the snow falling yesterday and it seemed rather magical. The snow fell like confetti—alive with tender, gentle touches of pleasant. I found the scene beautifully awesome. It re-created an atmosphere inside me. Memories flooded back from childhood with an avalanche of emotion.
Unlike fleeting dreams that race ahead to stay out of reach, just beyond your touching them—this was not out of touch. I could have dashed outside and joined in with all my senses enjoying the moment fully. I could have danced circles in childlike joy with outstretched arms and captured fluffy snowflakes on my tongue. I could have inhaled the mysterious moisture falling from the generously sharing sky with shear delight. I could have caught snowflakes in my eyelashes while looking up into the steady source of falling fluff. And I would have gloried in all of it!
The thing of it was, as I looked out the window, I didn’t feel compelled to do any of that. As I took in the scene of falling snow like a thirsty sponge soaking up nostalgia, it seemed and felt so familiar to me. It seemed I was absorbing something I had experienced before—a flooding memory paying no mind to time and distance. It seemed so familiar, but unidentified at first. It felt peaceful and beautifully wonderful, it was comforting, inside and out. It had to be a heart thing. A treasure locked away.
© 2013 Cheryl J. Howell. All rights reserved.
Photo by G.W. Grimm-Howell
Forest Park, St. Louis, Missouri
Snow Falling Like Memories
by Cheryl J. Howell
January 1, 2013