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Wintry cold / manzaneda

It was cold as I walked. Freezing cold.  The wind bit into my skin like icy teeth and cut through my thermal trousers as if they were silk pajamas. I shivered and pulled my jacket tighter around me. Even my ultra-thick high-tech down jacket was no match for the chill, because, unfortunately, it couldn’t cover my whole body. There was no protecting all of me at once; there was always something exposed. It was five in the evening and pitch black outside.

Winter was here. It was cold, dark and lonely.

I wiped a tear from my cheek. The arctic wind swirled around my legs, faking sweetness, trying to entice me to a deadly, wintry dance. ‘Come with me to the woods’, it seemed to say. ‘We two can play among the trees’, its icy breath caressing my neck, tugging me longingly towards the deep, black woods.

I pulled my woolen cap down around my ears to muffle its words and walked on, one foot in front of the other.

In the distance I could see a faint light. Was that my kitchen? Is that where I wanted to go?

I began to walk quicker, my feet more sure of their way. This made the wind angry; it snatched at my clothing, annoyed that I wasn’t up to its game. The snow closed in around me, enveloping me in its arms, inviting me to stop and rest for a while. Inviting me to take it easy and accept the cold.

It was winter. I was alone, cold and tired.

But through the freezing wind and swirling snow I kept my eyes on the light ahead and walked, one foot in front of the other, towards the light. Because deep inside I knew that every difficult path must end and the warmth of the kitchen would not be so welcome if there were no cold and snow to suffer first.

Happy walking,
Lisa

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