Depature/New Home Date Tuesday, April 23, 2024 - 06:52 AM PST Topic Beauty Winter Makes it hard to leave. Not physically, man has conquered the vice on nature compounding his freedom to move; but emotionally, mentally, it traps me. But winter mesmerizes. I watch the land fly by passively in the passenger seat of the car as I ride to the airport, the people around me drumming out the typical supportive lines of adventure, and how they wish they could do this. They could, they might, but they have the ties of life and death about them in elderly age. But watching the land under this perfect coating of whiteness makes it hard to hear them; my mind makes all the photos that will have to serve as memory for where I am going, reminding me of where I am from. Winter made it hard to leave, since those photos are almost too beautiful to take. The snow has settled perfectly on everything; as it always does, as it always will, as long as there is snow. Just enough has snowed the previous days to make a perfect blanket over everything, the frosting on a cake that smoothes its texture and makes it delictable to the senses. It has settled perfectly balanced on the branches of trees, sagging them down but creating a layer upon those thin wiry hands of winter that makes it seem so beautiful, so perfect, and so simple. The grasping, leafless hands reach out, encumbered by the wight, and glimmer in the sunlight with the sparkle of a thousand perfect, unique crystals. Winter made it hard to leave. The city was covered in it too; the fences of men to keep nature and other men out had turned from menacing things to dull, edgeless curves, rounded off with layers of perfect white that bleached the landscape and made it glow. The harsh outcroppings of concrete and glass were made to look warm, inviting and natural in the snow that coated them, like a blanket of peace that engulfs all things. Winter made it hard to leave. I stood about to board the plane, and took a last look at the landscape through my own eyes. Snow was falling off the roofs, and the crystals were melting in the morning's rays, sliding off in beautiful cascades of white that slumped unceremoniously to the ground, forming tiny hills around tall buildings. I could see my breath in the air, the slight wind carried it away from me and off to somewhere else I had never been. Winter made it hard to leave. I stepped off the plane into water; the air was sweating around me and the heat made the jacket that seemed so neccessary a few hours ago unbearable imprisoning. I was sweating already in the terminal. But friends were there; and they greeted me and hugged and shook hands and smiled. Winter was still in my heart though, and still is, thankfully, giving me a memory of a place that can be so beautiful and so surrendering. Crystals sparkingling still are in my eyes, flashing forever, and the snow on the fences and on the trees and on everything man has tried to accomplish, rebuking this feeble attempt at domination of nature. Winter made it hard to leave. Winter always makes it hard to leave. This article comes from Shmeng http://www.shmeng.com/ The URL for this story is: http://www.shmeng.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=242