A Year Without Snow

-1-

It was all about keeping your head up high, looking straightforward and making sure no one saw a single flinch of discomfort coming from you.

It was all about pretending that the world was not on your shoulders but on your hands, that you owned it and not the other way around.

It was all about that tear you held in, in the most overwhelming of situations, when the world tried to threaten, once again, your composure, and you were so inclined to let that single drop of salty liquid fall down your cheek, but your stubbornness didn't allow it.

Life, for me, was all about pretending I had all the pieces together when I didn't even know which puzzle I was trying to complete.

. . . . .

Monday, 28th November 2016

The day started like any other, I woke up to the irritating sound of my alarm clock which made me groan against my pillow. I tossed the white and warm sheets and beige comforter from on top of me. The cold morning air quickly met my skin making me quiver.

It was a cold November morning, the sun was low in the sky and the clouds were threatening to overflow Oak Hollow.

My town was famous for the snow that filled its streets every year during the winter months, due to the festivities that were held for it.

The story went, that the founders of the town begun the festival tradition when a drought almost killed them, and then one day it suddenly began to snow providing them water and saving the whole town. It was always hard for me to believe that a drought could've ever hit Vermont, but people didn't seem to mind the incoherency of the story, as long as they could eat and drink in the festival. And so, every year on the first day of snow, the festival went down in the town center with little stands everywhere serving warm drinks, and sweets with Christmas music playing in the background, snow fights everywhere and snowmen building contests.

But this year things were different. The Snow Festival usually took place in October, just before Halloween. However, the calendar marked the 28th of November, and still, no snow had come.

This year had taken a different turn from, not only weather-wise but also for me. Almost feeling like an ironic analogy, the snow was refusing to come out just as my life was refusing to put itself back together.

I got up from the bed, after the usual five minutes of blankly staring at my room's pale pink ceiling, and made my slow and drowsy way to the window. I sat there looking absently into the grey sky and the snow-free road.

My neighborhood was composed of houses with the same design, only differing on the color, resembling a rainbow that painted each side of the road, even on the darkest of days. Something that had amazed ever since I moved here.

As I was contemplating the bare trees that packed the street, my next-door neighbor, Mrs. Kanne, walked out into the street still in her pajamas, to pick up the newspaper that laid in her lawn. Her red hair was pulled up in a perfect knot as if she had just come out of the hairdresser and not out of bed. As she grabbed the roll of white paper and turned around, I quickly ran away from the window, hiding from sight, as my heartbeat fastened under my shirt. I took a deep breath and allowed my heart race to soften as I sat on my bed. I lowered my head into my hands and took a deep breath. I felt so ashamed of the person I had become.

I stood up as I checked my watch, realizing that I had only twenty minutes to leave the house. I took my usual quick shower and put on some clothes, something comfortable and generic, seeing that lately I didn't have much patience for fashion. After that, I made my way down the hall and into my mother's room where she peacefully laid in her kingsized bed.