It feels like walking home from school, at that hour in the afternoon where the sunset gives a golden tinge to your whole perspective. The freshly settled snow glitters under the rays. You pass by people tirelessly shoveling that glinting powder away and wonder if they take a moment to appreciate its beauty. Your boots are letting a bit of melted snow in; you start to lose feeling in your toes. Your hands that are exposed to the unforgiving cold are getting red; they're numb but you know they'll start getting warm again once you get home. Home; utter peace, relaxation after the long school day, where you get to unwind, be yourself without the stares of others. You'll get to make yourself a hot drink and enjoy it without thinking about anything else. Finally, the day is over. But before that, you need to actually get home. Crackling, scrunching, goes the snow under your boots. Your backpack is so heavy, it's weighing you down, you've been carrying it a whole lifetime. You can't wait to finally put it down. The way to your house seems forever away, you think you won't be able to get to it. You consider just giving up and going back to school, just to get a bit of temporary warmth back. Yet that same thought of warmth keeps you going; you've got to reach home, so far yet so close. Once you'll be home, it'll be over. Now it's gotten so cold you can't feel your whole body. So close. You start to see your home in the distance. Closer. Time has blurred but somehow you've got there; you're home. Finally, the journey is over. You open the door and your loved ones are there, waiting for you. You haven't seen them in forever. They're surprised to see you; none of them expected to see you so early. Nonetheless they accept you with open arms. You get to make yourself your hot drink; you drink it with contentment, pride, relief, peace, and don't think about anything else, ever again.
I can't wait for winter to come.
I can't wait for winter to come.
