I am pleased to report that it's possible to have an "It's good to be alive and I really appreciate the great things in my life" moment without it being some kind of religious epiphany. Today I experienced Snow-phoria!! (Medication free)
I discovered (after an uncharacteristically positively mood-ed week) that snow brings the best out of people - although I suppose I can only speak for myself. Wearing my sparkly pink wellies, gloves and scarf, I set out into the snow. I meandered down a residential street full of Christmas card houses and confused cats, the crunch of fresh snow under my feet. "What a great opportunity" I thought to myself. "I'm not working so I can get up at 10, have a cup of coffee, check my emails and go for a walk in the snow. How lucky am I?" Infused with positivity, my walk became more blissful with each step. How rare it is to have a moment in your life where everything is literally perfect. No deity was attempting to address me through the snow, blackmailing me into thanking it for my perfect moment.
I kept walking down the idyllic street. A tree inconveniently unloaded a branch full of snow onto my head. Instead of swearing at the tree, I grinned like a crazy fool and kept walking.
The huge park at the top of the road is pretty, but bland. The snow had transformed it into a scene out of a Disney movie. Mums and Dads, seemingly with no jobs to go to, frolicked in the snow with their kids, building snowmen. The kids wore multi-coloured scarves and hats and mittens. Schoolgirls wearing flat shoes and skinny scarves threw dainty snowballs at each other. I waxed lyrical to myself about how beautiful it all was and took a picture of snowman wearing an actual scarf and hat.
After coffee, I wondered into a designer clothes shop. The sales girl complemented me on my pink wellies. "Thanks" I said. "They were only 8 quid!" She looked at me, stunned for a second that anything could cost 8 quid. She probably doesn't expect change from a tenner when she gets her skinny latte in the morning.
As I stroll home down the same street that had been responsible for inducing my Snow-phoria earlier, I hear a drill screaming against concrete. A car revs its engine and a baby squalls. The snow has started to melt away and I have to zig-zag across the street in search of fresh, untrodden snow to crunch. As I reach my front door, it starts to rain. The snow will be gone for good soon. I feel sad for the first time today. Then I remember how good I felt before, when everything was absolutely perfect. The snow-phoria hasn't completely gone away...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Your fine prose inspired to append one of the greatest closing paragraphs in history:
"A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Kingston. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Thames waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Stanley Kubrick lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. Then he remembered how good he felt before, when everything was absolutely perfect. The snow-phoria hadn't completely gone away..."
Post a Comment