Thank You

Snow

"Darling, come here please."

The skin of my face is getting red because of the cold glass of the window pressed on my cheek. I have been waiting for snow all afternoon, like every year since I was born, my dad used to say. My warm breath draws small circles of steam on the glass, and I watch them fade out slowly, again and again.

I remember I used to watch by the window with Ro all day on the 24th. A child wouldn't even think of Christmas without snow. We would wait for hours in silence, we wouldn't have found anything to say anyways if we had wanted to, and this silence meant all the peace in the world for us, we wouldn't have put an end to it for anything. We never saw one snowflake fall.

Years after, I am still there, waiting. And every year I watch, alone, and all I see is memories. My mom says I hurt myself more than anything, and deep down she might be right, but I know how much I would suffer if I stopped doing it anyways. Therefore she knows she can call me as many times as she wants ; I won't come down.

We would sit at my bedroom's window every year because the heater was closer there, waiting and watching, until our eyes closed and out bellies growled ; it was time to come down, it was December 24th, at 8pm.

I take a quick look at my alarm clock which shows a bright electronic 7:34pm. Time's almost up. It hasn't snowed. But is this really what it is about ? Don't I know it will not snow, this year or any other year ? Isn't that just a habit I kept, however hurtful it is ? My mom is right. It has made me suffer for years, it will never snow, they will never come back. All I do is make my heart ache, and I can't help it.

I turn around and open the door. I stand still for a moment, my fingers wrapped around the handle. I've come to a breaking point. I can't do it anymore. I have to go, I have to let go of these unhealthy habits that kill me and somehow I feel as dead as them now. So I step outside of my room and take a deep breath.

My mom freezes when she sees me in the staircase. Her hands are shaking, and I can tell she almost dropped the plate she held with them. Her eyes widen, and her lips part slightly. We stare at each other for a second, and even though we've had hard times understanding each other, this moment is crystal clear. She puts her plate down and opens her arms. I would've never thought I'd ever do that after all these years, but I walk straight towards her, and my body fits perfectly against hers as she rolls her arms around me, hugging me tightly.

No tears fall out of my eyes. None have in years, It feels like I'm made of stone sometimes, and if most times it works fine for me, some other days it hurts so much I want to die.

After a while, maybe too long, maybe not enough, I softly get out of my mother's embrace, but she still sweetly holds my arm. She looks at me and smiles.

"You're wearing a dress."

"Yes."

Her stare speaks for itself.

"I'm going out. Don't worry it's after midnight."

"After midnight ? I should let you out after midnight ?"

"Don't pretend like it's not what I've been doing every night for four years."

She picks up the plate et quickly walks to the kitchen. She knows I'll follow.

"I don't like you to be outside that late. You know how scared I am when you're alone at night."

"Then why haven't you locked me in yet ?"

She freezes, takes a big breath and puts her plate on the kitchen counter before looking at me. I can tell she's worried. I can tell she loves me.

"You know I could never do that to you. I don't know what you'd be able to do if I ever locked you in."

She acts as if she was in a hurry, but it's been a long time since she hasn't been for Christmas, ever since it's only been us two. No outsiders, no extravagant meals to cook, no schedule and not much to worry about. She only does it so that she can avoid looking at me.

"I can't tell if you're fine half of the time but I could tell you were a bit more at peace when you started going on these midnight walks than before. You know I don't want to lose you."

I know.

"So I won't lock you in, because I'm sure it would be even less safe for you. But I don't understand why you won't answer me when I ask you where you are, or where you went when you come back."

I stay silent, my eyes still fixed on her.

"I do worry about you. You're young, and alone at night... I can't help but imagine the worst scenarios..."

I awkwardly shift.

"Don't. I'm not alone tonight."

She stops her course and lifts up her eyes to me.

"Aren't you ?"

"No, I'm not."

"Where are you them ? With whom ?"

For the first time tonight my gaze falls to the ground. This is the moment I've been pushing away for the last few hours, I don't want to see her reaction. It hurts to say it but I am scared.

"I was invited," I softly start, "To the theatre."

As I expected, my mother starts shaking. I run to her to pick up the plate she holds before it crashes on the ground, and help her sit on the nearest chair. She looks weak, all curled up on the old wooden chair, still shivering. She looks so much younger and vulnerable this way, it strikes me hard. She briskly puts a hand on my arm and I can't help but jump a little.

"How did you get the ticket ? Do you have a ticket ? What is this about ?"

The questions almost sound like affirmations. Curt. Short. Violent.

"Yes, I have a ticket. It was given to me. I was invited," I repeat.

I slowly get the ticket from under my belt, and smooth it out before handing it to my mother who seizes it with her shaking hands. She keeps on smoothing it out like a treasure but out of the blue, she rips it off, fiercely tearing it apart and I can't restraint a scream of pain, disagreement and incomprehension. I fall on my knees.

"I thought... I thought you walking away from your window was a good thing... I thought... But I was wrong. Did you only lose all the respect you have for you them ?"

No words come out of my throat. My eyes are dry but I wish I could cry to let the pain in my heart flow. All I can do is watch. Watch as she lets go of the thousands of pieces she made out of that precious ticket. Watch as it falls like snow in front of my eyes. My eyes widen as I see it.

It's not paper no more. Behind the window falls the first snowflakes I have ever seen.

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the trauma was real already but now you guys will want to know more ab it and tbh i haven't rly deepened it in my head yet sooo y'all will have to wait ig
anyways hope you liked that lil thing frenz
-lou~