The transition from bustling city to peaceful country-side was like a gradient of cluttered noise inside my head. At the end noticing the stillness in the frozen peaks and open sky as far as I could see. So much so that I noticed my breath that much more. The sound of air flowing through my nose and filling my lungs, so cold that I could feel this path it traced in my bones. This quiet cold was one that I only ever wanted to watch from behind a slightly fogged window. Only now I was contained in this moving train mesmerized by its gliding through fallen snowflakes. Vast white presence was symbolic of purity, but covered nothing that seemed remotely alive. Life would surely come again in Spring, as it always had. Something about the snow felt so calm and reassuring of this, with the freedom of new beginnings.
I thought this rather comparable to the passing on of our loved ones. We are sad when they are gone, just as winter brings a hardship due to frozen stillness. But life will come again. Through underground processes unseen we spring back to life. Reminiscent of last summer, but looking forward to this one. The freedom that comes with new life.
