Looking out the window, I feel like I’m watching the snow fly by like time – fleeting flakes in abundance. Isn’t that how time kind of works? Sometimes it flies by and sometimes it just drags. Inside, work is in slow motion. Outside, the snowflakes pulse from a cascading white canvas to light delicate drifts. The snowflakes are memories of moments. Moments that passed too quickly. Moments I couldn’t catch. Moments I couldn’t get back and moments I wish I indulged in a little more.
Even when I was little, I understood that what is here today might not be here tomorrow. And when it snowed, I was afraid it was going to go away. I use to waddle outside to the backyard my grandparents tended to and I would squat and scoop tiny handfuls of snow into a red bucket. I’d bring it back in the house and shove it in the freezer. I wanted to save it for tomorrow. I wanted to save it for as long as I could. Because I knew the snow outside would melt one day. And just like time, moments will melt into memories.
