Roses in December

One

The snow was heavy as it fell from the sky, covering everything in sight. It had been raining the past several days, with a sprinkle of hail every now and then. The December chill was enough to finally freeze everything over and while at times the sight was particularly picturesque, the look of the white sheet outside his window made Roger squint. His eyesight was bad enough, but this was practically blinding.

When he was a young lad, Roger used to adore the snow. He would drive his mum wild as he would bounce up and down in anticipation as she dressed him in his jumper and heavy snowsuit. He would twitch and kick as she would help him and his sister with his boots before finally opening the door and ushering him outside for a bit of fun.

The sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet had always been a sound he enjoyed. With each step he took, the sound would fill the air and the marks he left behind in the former untouched ground left the small boy feeling powerful. He had disturbed something just a moment prior looked as it if had been created by God himself.

Maybe it was the malicious part in the back of his mind or perhaps he was just a silly boy who loved to cause a bit of innocent havoc. He and his sister would spend hours in the snow, having their snowball fights or building forts. He would find the heights hill and sled down it. They would stay out there until their mum called for them, shouting their names until they finally gave in and ran back home.

There, they would trail the snow into the house, watching as it quickly morphed into wet puddles that would get soaked up by the carpet or stain the wooden floors. Roger could still remember how his mother would tear his hide for causing such a mess.

There were a lot of things he could remember, in fact.

Not just about the snow on cold December mornings, but other seasons as well.

He remembered being in primary school and running along with his friends, scratching up his knees and sliding in the mud when they would get too into their short round of rugby during their lunch break after it rained. His teachers would shake their heads and force him to the lavatory to clean up through all the blond could do was smile with his friends.

He remembered the scorching days of summer when he would flirt with the pretty girls in their pretty suits by the water's edge. The beaches were always crowded this time of year, but it was worth the traffic and pushing through the sand if it meant getting the number a lovely lady in a skimpy two-piece and take her out for a bite following weekend.

He remembered running through the piles of leaves that had fallen from the trees so he wouldn't be late to his class while in union crisp autumn afternoons. He wasn't late often enough, but sometimes his fan would act up or he got caught in a conversation with friends or stuck in rehearsal with Brian or Tim.

Roger remembered a lot. But he also forgot a lot too.

He forgot cutting his hair into such a strange style. Long in the back, but short in the front. He knew that things like this, fashion trends, well they came and went, but Roger could have never imagined a style like this stick around for much longer.

He forgot dying it such a harshly light color like it had been when he was just a lad. His hair darkened over time and while he could admit he preferred it lighter as it had been in his youth, he never imagined willingly sitting in a chair and allowing someone to bleach his gorgeous locks and then glaze over it with such a blond tint.

He forgot where he had been going when he got into the car and he forgot what car he had been driving. The last automobile he remembered getting behind the wheel of was that old junker of a van he and Brian shared for gigs. He spent a good amount of money on it, practically stealing all of Freddie's shifts at the market so he could save up and buy it.