Snow falling into soft blankets engulfing the Earth . . . warm cookies baking leisurely in the oven . . . a roaring fire crackles in the fireplace as the flames illuminate the room. A good book is sitting on the table waiting for its owner. Beside the book, two cups of cocoa sit waiting to be savored. Sitting in a comfortable chair and watching the roar of the flames, she reminisces of a past and dreams of a future still yet to come. Her favorite season is winter. She finds it an exhilarating time of year. It is a symbolic time to life as it reflects the end and the beginning with the onslaught of spring.
Nestled by a crackling fire and covered with a warm, soft blanket, she begins a journey in her mind. She can feel the chilly weather that in time will turn to bitter cold. The warm cocoa soothes her soul. Remembering her youth, she still longs to go outside and play in it. She watches through the window as icicles form on the trees and roof. Their clear crystal formation reminds her of the magic that is present during this time of year. She can see him in the distance picking up wood for the fire. His hair has greyed, but he is still as handsome to her as he was the day they met.
She hears in the distance the sounds of children running and playing snowball fights, and sledding down hills. Ice skating on the frozen lake with the boy you love holding your hands. Feeling alive as the cold air rushes through you while you glide with ease on the ice at your feet. Dancing together as if you are one.
Staring at the staircase in the hall, she can still hear the sounds of her children running down the stairs on Christmas morning with their eyes all aglow in amazement and wonder at the presents left under the tree by Santa.
Time has passed.
And now grandchildren run on those stairs, and she still skates on the lake with the boy she loved, but a little more gingerly than before. And yes, there is still a spring to look forward too. There is still life moving forward. She feels blessed to have both—a rich past full of love and memories, and a wonderful future full of love and hope. The meaning of the season reminds her to be thankful for all she has and all the gifts still to be received.
Sitting back within her chair, she opens the book that she loves to read. It is bound in brown leather that is etched with scrolls of flowers. It was a gift from her husband—the love of her life. It is simply titled, My Memories, and it is written in her own handwriting.
Ria Prestia is an author who lives in Florida with her husband, her children and her faithful lab. One of her passions is to reflect on life through the written word.