December/January Creative Piece: Snow Wanderer

Written by: Ikran Abdi

I’m wandering. I can’t remember when it started, I don’t remember how. I can’t take control of my steps, it’s like my mind is being left in each footprint I imprint in the snow. Letting the world know that I passed through here and that I’m wandering in this never-ending snowfall.

My eyes are lost, too much to look at, too much to aspire to be. Around me a million magical fairies shower me with their glee, dancing down in a dance so slow and graceful like the ballerina I always wished to be. The snow on my hair looks like stars gleaming in the midnight sky, but upon my shoulders, they blend in just right like a polar bear in the Arctic storm. With each step comes a struggle to keep pushing forward as the inches of snow I step into grip onto my ankles like a hug too hard to pull away from, too possessive on my thin skin. 

Down below from afar, a parking lot comes into view. From up above, the snow looks like aging dust that’s rested upon the cars like ancient relics of the past, almost too perfect before I remember those relics are what's killing the beautiful world I'm in. But I couldn’t care less, I can’t make myself care more right now. The snow, the crisp air, the white blanket hiding away the all-too-familiar green grass. This moment, right now, it’s what I live for. Up in this field, away from the loud noises of civilization, is a feeling of eternal bliss, a peaceful scene that will never end. 

The tips of my fingers prickle and tingle, and the paleness in my skin feels so sheer and light as if I just touched a flame too bright and hypnotic for my mind to tell me to pull away from it. The sensation spreads throughout my entire body, it runs through my veins  

as the fairies fly around me, nestling all over my bare skin melting like ice cream on the hot summer pavement. My long black lashes become entangled with snowflakes; tripping into my eyes, blurring my vision with a bitter, frosty touch of winter before it overflows and rolls down my rosy cheeks. 

I never stop moving, never stop looking. My eyelids are practically frozen open, too afraid to blink, too afraid to look away even for a second, too scared to miss this magical moment that I will never witness again. I’ve only ever lived thirteen years, only ever had thirteen birthday candles, and in my thirteen years I only ever received thirteen letters from my absent parents. “I wonder,” I whisper to the snow, “if my mom and dad can see the snow today, wherever they are?”

The cold wind blows as if responding to my question, my hair flies up into the sky, crackling and crunching from the frostbite that’s inhabited my dark locks. My body shivers and tingles. Goosebumps are evident on my red skin. My fingers tremble and twitch, my hands shake and waver, and my bottom lip quivers and cracks like an earthquake. My body reacts to the cold but my mind doesn’t care. My eyes keep my brain distracted, like a child running around on a playground, amazed by all the fun things to do. Pins and needles, pins and needles, pins and needles tickling my chin. My nose feels non-existent but I can feel it running and I make no effort to stop it. 

Then, finally, I come to a halt. 

I reach the top of the hill. My feet are numb; my shoes did a poor job of protecting my feet as I can feel the blisters and frostbite consuming me from the bottom up like a plague. The view, I say to myself. “The view,” I say to the snow listening in. The
Earth is covered in snow that resembles the feathers of an enchanted, elegant swan. The sky is filled with glitter raining down in a slow, meaningful manner as if it has all the time in the world to find its final resting place. The neighborhood from a distance reminds me of the gingerbread houses I only ever saw in my dreams. Frosty snow covers the rooves like icing piped on by a child with a messy finishing touch. The icicles hang on the edges for dear life and gleam with their glossy exterior, reflecting the sunlight at just the right angle to blind someone for a moment with its alluring beauty. The trees stand tall, like the kind you’d buy to put in your living room for Christmas and decorate with ornaments and lights. These trees instead are accessorized with a trillion different snowflakes, each one with an intricate and detailed design. They weigh down the branches just a bit, transforming the rustic tree into a ruffled wedding dress for the most perfect bride. Much better than any ornament. I wish to count every single snowflake, I want to make one hundred snow angels, I need to build two snow people to complete my family. 

My knees begin to buckle and twitch, my legs start to falter and waver. The weight of my body all of a sudden starts to feel too heavy, like another ten pounds is stacked upon my shoulders, pushing me down and threatening to topple me over. Gravity seems to be more evident than it’s ever been. It’s working against me at this very moment, like a friend who’s finally shown their true self and is praying for my downfall. 

And down I fall. 

My back sinks into the snow like the missing piece to the puzzle I’ve been trying to solve all my life. My skin melts at the first touch, pricking and itching my senses before I even realize I have fallen. If anything, the cold feels more like a warm hug. Like I’m all cozy next to a fireplace,settled in for the night with a heavy, feathery blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and a hot chocolate with fluffy marshmallows and a mint candy cane as my stir stick. The snow molds around my back, around my shoulders and head, and even embraces my heart that was struck by ice more than a decade ago. 

I don’t move. I can’t move; my limbs, my lips, my eyes are frozen the way they are, but I’ve come to terms with that. As still as a statue, as cold as ice, to be flowered on by the million snowflakes more special than the most unique ornaments. A sign of a lost soul who has found its meaning. Who has made a statement with the persistent footprints left behind in the many inches of demanding snow. Telling the world I passed through here, and that I’ve wandered in this never-ending snowfall.