Julianna May

I.

Open the door, take a deep breath to prepare.

Whoosh. Pain swells inside my chest

As icy air enters my lungs

Before being expelled back the way it came.

The snow, crunching under my feet,

Reflects the sun and blinds my eyes.

The bright white causes squinting while walking.

Looking down, foot prints and the scuffs

Before them litter the ground,

But only on the pavement.

The rest of the ground, where grass once was,

Is untouched. The flatness of the scene

Brings memories of days

Spent entirely in the snow.

II.

Breaking off icicles from clean places

To lick and see if tongues stay attached.

The softness of the snow, like falling into a pillow.

The rush of adrenaline, while flying down a hill,

Knowing when to stop to avoid the street at the bottom.

Friends laughing, can’t stop smiling

Even though snot reaches its fingers into open mouths.

Numb fingers warmed with hot cocoa

Topped with the sugary goodness of marshmallows.

The dripping of snow shoes and pants

Onto the tiles of the kitchen,

Toes warming at the fire.

Cheeks rosy red, eyes bright;

Endearing memories.

III.

Looking up, while walking to class, I see

The people around, filled with their own memories.

We pass, staring at the white, crunching ground.

Looking as the trees with their branches

Weighed down with the snow.

Students brought down by the weight of their packs

And memories. Dragging their feet, desiring to feel

The freedom once had – weightless packs,

Weightless branches – dancing and not caring.

My breath smokes the air, molecules freezing

After exiting the warmth of my body.

I blink to keep out the wind.

Tears running down my face;

The cold forces itself into my being.