I miss snow…

(This is from last night, though for some reason it wasn’t getting published…anyway, here it is.)

Calcutta is so hot today, I’m wishing I could rewind abit to when I was traipsing about Sofia in the snow. Well, not traipsing exactly…though at some moments it was like that. But I slipped and slid a plenty too. Ran some as well. Yes in the snow. It was minus six degrees and late at night, with strong chilly winds, there was no way this Calcutta girl could stroll leisurely between theatres. Ummm no, we ran (we being my dear friend and colleague a.k.a. Peter Pan), for twenty-five minutes straight. Yes, the theatres were some distance apart. Walking would have taken forty-five.

I’m not sure why I thought of that story today, except for sweet memories of the snow. Singing at midnight walking through the snow covered park was one of my favourites. And listening to music from my phone speaker, usually inaudible with traffic in Calcutta, but there through a quiet neighbourhood of Sofia, it was crystal clear.

It wasn’t supposed to snow in late March, but it did.

I remember a long long walk interspersed with coffee stops to find my first official pair of snow boots. I’d seen snow in Redding first, and later in London, but nothing as thick and heavy and layered as in Sofia.

I did slip quite a few times, but usually was lucky enough to have a friendly arm close by to hold one too. There was one hilarious moment when I hugged onto an almost stranger, because I suddenly lost my balance on an icy bit and I was so used to holding on I did it anyway. It was such a sight. I apologized profusely, and skirted around to find my known elbow again.  A little support is a good thing when  snow and ice are new to your feet. I was unashamed to ask for it. Smiles.

I don’t know why I think of this, but somehow the memory of snowy days cools and comforts me. I forget the things I want to forget and remember what is good. I’m thankful the cucumber I cut wasn’t bitter. And that my sister knows how to fix a pressure cooker, because I really don’t. And when my body craves rest, I’m thankful I can cancel class and stay in and rest.

I’m thankful for a creative mind, even if I need to deal with an explosion of ideas sometimes. It’s even more than an explosion now than ever before, and I’m still learning how to channel this productively, but I’m glad for ideas and creativity. I’m thankful for the demand for my time even if it’s hard to keep up with sometimes. In between there is restlessness, uncertainty, discomfort, anxiety, stress, doubt, desire and a sense of ‘no hope’ to overcome. But to all this I speak peace, and the memory of snow. Happiness in the little things. Patience to take things slow. And again and again and again, being alright with not pleasing everybody.

‘Sometimes the snow comes down in June….’ I used to play that song before. I don’t play the piano now. But it’s one of my favourite instruments to listen to. Everything in life shapes us, so I will take the good days and the rough ones, as part of what must be.

Wishing it would snow, I’m prepared to accept it will be quite some time before I see snow again. In the meantime, I will keep dreaming…

 

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