It snowed today on the last day of March. The last dying breath of winter sprinkled fragile little snowflakes that disappeared at touch. As they landed on my black polyester t-shirt, beautiful intricate webs of snow existed on the fabric for a second or two before losing its shape. Each little snowflake had a figure like no other then became water.
Snowy days like today remind me of cozy past. Instant connection with a stranger I met on a bench, laughing with friends until my stomach aches, a drowsy coffee after lunch under the sun. Small happy moments like these make up my days, my life. In the moment, it is all there is, overwhelmingly taking up the present with a unique beauty of its own. Looking back however, they are simply happy memories. They are formless, indistinct, a melted pool of memories. Snowflakes.
Life dissolves at a touch like snowflakes. It is impossible to remember or record every moment. But we try, grasping at the wind, creating art. No matter how thick the snow is, the sky gives us a finite number of snowflakes. Winter will eventually end.
I spread out my palms to the falling white presents, notice the patterns, and let the crystals melt. Empty-handed, I wave to death and let it know that I feel these snowflakes.