The snow is a blanket that slows the world down
It’s a fresh new start.

As a child I would awaken early
and anxiously wait to be the first one to make footprints.
I owned the path
I breathed in sharpness and exhaled determination.

Does the world expand and contract with me?
Snow is one of a multitude of ways that water shows up in the world.

Our bodies are mostly water.
The essence of who we are is floating.
Water flows through us and is us but sometimes we forget.

I had a massage therapist that would only wear white.
She believed since white is the absence of color
That the white would soak up the other colors for healing like a sponge.

Right now, white shows up as an unexpected relative of paralyzing fear and rage
Staring back at me with no recognition of who I usually am.

The page is blank.
Is this opportunity?

White is the horizon where no one waits for me.
No children.
The last in the line of pain and promise.

I must forge a new path and fill the glass to begin again.