Christmas

Mom asked me to find one of her CDs earlier. She said it was in a white envelope , in a pile of other CDs in white envelopes.  Easy enough, I thought. But no. It was not. Because Mom kept asking every thirty seconds if I found it. Because  she failed to mention a very important detail, that the name of the artist was written on the envelope, I turned on the laptop and started checking each disk. “Do I have to come find it myself?” mom asked impatiently.  Could have taken me forever if she hadn’t told me about the name of the artist being written in pencil. By me. A few years ago. I don’t remember certain details from the day before, let alone a few years ago. Wasn’t important enough to remember, I guess.

Christmas day began much better than that, though. From the moment I woke up, two thoughts took turns in occupying my mind. One was the fact that I finally finished typing Book Two of my novel. Writing it on paper first is great but when it comes to copying the text onto the computer… all those ideas of improvements and little changes to slow me down. The second thought was of what a socially retarded person I am. I mean, I have next to no social skills to speak of and everything I do when I am around people that are not my immediate family feels strange and I am most likely making a fool of myself.  Again and again and again. Of the two thoughts I chose the first because it is happier and it also leads me to a third – starting work on Book Two.

Crappy weather, episode 4569 and a half, continues.  Ground a little frozen, fog, no snow. On December 25^th. It is absolutely fantastic.

There are probably a million other things to complain about. We all do it.

Mom is pleased now. Music is playing. By the time I found the CD she said she didn’t want it anymore. I gave it to her anyway.

Then I look outside and see only darkness. What kind of winter is this? It may seem like a blessing but it is not. The world is messed up. Just yesterday when I went to the vet, a woman asked for something against mites in the chicken coops. Mites were never a problem during winter. Too cold for them. Not now. It’s spring for them. After a relatively cold and wet autumn, now is heaven. I think I saw someone posting pictures of blooming spring flowers somewhere. In the garden.

Where are the old, normal winters? The shoveling of snow to make pathways, the loaded trees, the cats swimming in seas of white after sparrows they will never catch.

Years ago, the road would fill with snow and had to work hard to get somewhere outside our yard. Not long ago, one of my Muscovy ducks flew into a neighboring garden and I had to put on snow boots and spent half an hour trying to catch her. She was light and even though tired kept running, helped by her wings. I was tired as hell from swimming into knee deep snow for that long but loved every minute of it. Once, I built a huge imaginary castle in the hill in front of our house. The top is like a platform and  I trampled the thick coat of snow into hallways and rooms, drew flowery models of the edges, stuck reeds for mighty columns at the doors. Strangely enough, I remember with the same fondness the time when I slipped on ice and cracked my right collarbone in the first year of highschool. It was the last day of the winter vacation. Had to stay home two more weeks because of the cast. What did I do the second the cast was off? Went to walk on steeper  and more slippery ice. This is winter for me. Deeper back in time, in the middle of January, a spell of warm air must’ve blown in our direction because the deep snow melted on the road, just the surface , then when sub-zero temperatures returned it froze over and I disappeared for a day with most of the kids in the neighborhood  and our sleighs. A whole day of super speed, over and over again.

One of my fondest memories of college takes place in winter. At the end of it, to be precise. I was at college, it was my birthday and I really wanted to be home. The last bus was at 6.30 p.m.. I caught it. It was snowing heavily. Giant snowflakes you do not see often.  I simply love travelling by bus at night. I loved it even more when, half way through the distance, we had to stop because a man waved at us to stop on top of a hill. Two 18-wheelers had slipped in the snow in the valley and could not move. They also blocked the road with their cargo. We waited. And waited. And waited. Seems like something extremely boring for some I suppose. Not for me. It was an adventure. It didn’t matter I got home over an hour later than supposed to. Best birthday ever!!!

Recently, I was at school. All roads had been declared closed because of the blizzard. The school is five kilometers from my home. Some of the students had longer distances to get to their homes. The school bus tried to take some of us to safety but at one point it broke. So we boarded into a large bus and tried to fight Mother Nature. While waiting for my turn on a bus I went to buy cakes for home – a syrupy delicacy with walnut pieces on top. About half a kilometer from my house the bus ended up in a ditch and they called for machines from a neighboring village for help. I have no clue why I stayed in the bus for half an hour before I had the brilliant idea to get off, put on the hood of my winter coat and simply walk home. So what if the winds were blowing all the snow in my face?

That is why I wonder. Will we ever have winters like that? Yeah, it is hard. It is  also beautiful in a twisted kind of way.

My sister is preparing the grill now. I can smell it from outside. The cats are circling around her, full of hope in their little stomachs. They will get their share soon enough. They always do.

The fog is back and the world is finally quiet. I like this about my holidays. I get to choose who I meet and if I want to see anyone. Right now, I am happy where I am, home, alone. But no, I am not alone. I have a whole world inside my head. I know delving deeper into it will only distance me more from the real world and I will never have the social skills I should have but I don’t care. As long as I don't hurt anyone, it shouldn't matter.