My office window looks out onto a gnarled dogwood. From it, time hangs on its branches. I can tell the seasons with just a glance. In spring, buds pop open, covering the tree in a blanket of pink, in summer, emerald foliage waves to me, and in
fall, it parades a coat of rubies. Today snow rests on its
limbs, and a biting wind blows through it. Low telephone wires hang
just above. Occasionally, a squirrel scurries across. I spend half my day
staring through those limbs into the gray sky, dreaming. I'm not going to lie,
it’s a pretty good gig. God has given me a good life. I am truly blessed.
On days like these, a peaceful happiness rests in my spirit. Magic lingers just beneath the snow like a frozen friend. The crunch of my boots on the deck, makes me remember something, but I can't quite remember what. I think it's a whole bunch of things like: laughter, sizzling water on our potbellied stove, numb fingers, my dog's wet fur, the smell of frying potatoes as mom stands at the stove, my brother recounting the Sword of Shannara to me and my cousins, and my dad chopping wood. Maybe it's all of these things which brings me joy, I really can't say, but winter makes me warm with its flood of memories.
For me this season holds promise of things to come like none other. It is quiet and dark, and while some people hate it, this season comforts me. In its quiet solitude I find peace, a time of reflection. This is my time to write - to lay out all those memories and share them with those who will listen.
Soon the days will lengthen and people will awaken from their restful slumber. The dogwood will spring
with life, but for now, I’m going to relish
this time and listen for the laughter of memories.