Superposition

Chapter V

Marie

Autumn is long gone now.  The leaves have gone from orange to falling off the trees, and Christmas decorations are beginning to go up. Although, in my opinion, it's still too early. I've always loved winter because to me, it's quiet, tranquil. Winter for me is like a warm blanket, which is a bit of a juxtaposition, really.

Winter isn't warm at all. But I love coming home after being outside in the freezing cold and opening my dorm room door and just being hit with a wave of hot air. It's toasty and comforting, and feels like a hug from an old friend. That's what winter is like - a hug from an old friend. An old friend that you don't see all the time, but you always know it's going to be there. And it's a bit of an adjustment when they come around again, but you get used to it and it becomes your norm for a few months and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Then when they're gone, you almost miss them and count down the days to when they're going to return. Winter reminds me that the year is almost over, that I've almost done another 365 days and I feel proud, in a way. That I made it.

     The grass on the green is frosted over and shiny and makes a little crunching sound as you walk on it. I love how the air smells in winter - crisp and fresh. Winter smells like new beginnings. My hands are pink and I can barely even feel them at this point. I always tell myself that I'm going to buy gloves, but I always forget. I have my woolly beanie, though. I've had it for as long as I can remember.

     Mother, father and I were on a ski trip and I must've been about seven. I didn't do any skiing as I was too small and scared, and my father never liked skiing. He only came on the trip with us because my mother was so excited about going. She'd always loved to ski. Her family did it every year when she was a girl and mother said she wanted to share that with us. Anyway, father and I were out on the mountains, waiting for my mother to be finished and I was absolutely freezing. Before I left, both my parents told me I wasn't wearing enough layers and that I'd be freezing but I wouldn't listen. I hated that they were right.

'I told you that you would be cold, Marie,' My father said in his never changing grumpy tone. I ignored him and continued shivering, not wanting to admit that he was right. After about twenty minutes of watching me suffer, Father picked me up and took me to the cafe/gift shop that wasn't far from where everyone was skiing. We sat down and he bought me a hot chocolate and a warm cherry bakewell.

'Don't tell your mother.'

As much as I loved my mother, she was obsessed with eating green and anything containing sugar or fat was a rarity in my household - anything sweet was like gold dust to me at that age.

      While I was stuffing my face, father got up and went over to where all the merchandise was. He picked up a black woolly beanie with an 'M' on it and went to the counter and bought it. When he came back and handed it to me I smiled with gratitude as he said, 'Now you'll never be cold.' In truth, the hat was far too big for me but as the years went by I grew into it and I've worn it every winter since I've had it. Partly because it keeps me warm, and partly because whenever father sees me wear it, he smiles and gives me a little nod and it makes me happy. I don't have a lot of good memories with my father, but the hat and the cafe is definitely one of them.

     When I wear my hat, it reminds me of how my father was before mum passed. He was always a bit grumpy, but my mother could always make him smile. I never see him smile anymore - except when I wear my hat.

      It feels like a lifetime before I reach the common room. It's toasty in here and the fire is lit and there's a faint scent of cinnamon in the air. There's not many people here, most people are revising for end of term exams. I probably should be, too.