Snow is Falling Somewhere

So it is snowing in the mountains and probably in many places. I love the silence of snow, the stillness. That may be cliche but I do. Once I lived in a small, rundown house that was dark with small windows and one large picture window that looked out onto a field. there wasn't much room to get outside because the yard was small, but from that window you could see very far to a mountain at the end of a field. I'd sit there when it would snow and look out at all the white and the emptiness and feel a peaceful fullness from being all alone.
I'd cook in the green house in a kitchen that had no counterspace and a dirty stove. It is funny now, it was 4 years ago and I don't really remember where anything was in that kitchen, like the silverware or the olive oil and I can barely think of any meal I made there. But I do remember the plates my roommate had and the sound they made as I'd sit them on the coffee table and stare into the picture window at the smooth field. Once I had a group there and we ate peach salsa and blue chips as it snowed and listened to Ani DiFranco. I was a waitress at the time and would play "Habit" over and over. Even now when I hear that song I am there again with the sweet-tang of the salsa and the silence of friendships that didn't last.

I always imagine life is like looking into a mirror with a mirror behind you so that there are dozens of you lined up, as far as you can see. Each reflection is you at a different moment in your life, still existing still suspended in that moment. You are there in the past and there in the future always existing.