Amidst Snowfall

It started snowing at last, the first snow of the year. It looks like it has no intention to lull and has wrapped the city like a thick blanket as if it's keeping it warm. Did Sam take his umbrella today? From inside these large windows I can see people and the snow, drifting . Do they notice me too?

I've been sitting here for almost 4 hours now, trying to sort my thoughts out. Trying to twin them to the cadence of the floating snow. But the only thing i can meditate on is: how a person's life starts with their first snow and ends with their last.

The funny thing is everything seems to happen between this two instant. I have no rational tenor favoring this ridiculous idea of mine, but the more I think the more it seems to make sense to me. Then what about people who live in warmer place where it never snowed? What about Sam if he was still back there? This definitely is his first snow. The foster-care was far off South and he mentioned it never snowed there. We talked about building a snowman together. 

We also talked about other things. Things like how he could call me mother now. But I didn't force him to. I just mentioned to him once. Things take time. Even the snow was late this year. Its this desperate voice within me, immersed inside that craves it. How would it sound? Just once? I laugh. Humans are greedy indeed.

As for me, I am growing somewhere between my first and my last snow. The winter made me sick and I even considered moving South. The white that falls brought different shades of blue with it, every year, which reflected right through me, every time. But now Sam's here and things are completely different. He's got me now and I've got a home too.

I spot him, running towards the cafe. With a shy smile and twinkling eyes he's kicking the snow out of his way; he's happy. I watch him. I've been thinking about him all this time. How does he feels about the snow? The door bell chimes as he enters. How would it fell when he calls me mother for the first time? He's searching for me, nervous pair of eyes. Will he be able to adjust to the cold here in the city? He spots me and hurries over. Will he call me mother? He pulls a chair and settles. Will he call...? Those innocent, virgin, beautiful, warm eyes; lights up. He opens his mouth to say something. And suddenly, winter never felt this warm.

As if it couldn't get any more cold, it had to snow. Of course it would have snowed any day but I miserably prayed it wouldn't. I wish this will be the last snow. The cardboard draped with blue plastic wasn't the best ceiling one could use this winter but who am I kidding. Somebody was kind enough to place an old blanket inside my 'camp' last night. Bless their soul! The water in the bottle was no longer liquid and two cents in the bowl were miserably trembling. Miserable! what else could i say?

I settle my eyes for the day. They roam inside the cafe down the street. Those people inside should really be grateful to have something warm to hold to in this cold. Ah! A warm cup would feel heavenly. That woman was there today too. She often leaves a change or two while she's passing around. And the best, offers a smile. I should probably expect one today too.

Whatever happens, I wish the wind doesn't blow. It will get more miserable! More miserable cents! At least those police-people had stopped chasing me. I mean who would be heartless enough to drive a homeless beggar who looks like he's about to breathe his last breath? But I've seen more heartless people.Those living inside bricks don't see what happens here at night. You gotta have a tough heart!

My morning monologue is interrupted as someone bends down to drop something. My first earning of the day! A young boy drops something and whispers something under his breath. And a smile! Young people, they're the good ones. Who am I to judge anyway? It's not everyday I get to eat breakfast. Bless your soul, boy!

It snowed. Slow at first then it was all over the place. Like spilled milk but cold. It floated so slightly, so soft and so beautiful. It was against my skin, I could feel it. And it felt warm, like her, like mother. I've never called her that loudly though. I want to call her mother, loud and clear so she can hear it, not my bedroom walls! She said we're a family now and we're supposed to look after one another, not be shy! Be home to each other and love each other. 

Love and family were something we craved for every minute back in foster. It's been a month now but it feels unusually good coming home from school and calling out mother. Talking about our day while we prepare dinner. Just like the snow, how it muffles the busy city and it's noise. My anxieties are muffled now too. I have her and I am happy. 

She's waiting for me now. I need to hurry, but the snow slows me. I'm slowing myself down. What can i do? It's too beautiful and new to me. Everything looks like it's out of a book! Mother said we'd go home together that meant I'll get to play in the snow later.

I spot that old homeless man, mumbling to himself. I brought a sandwich with me. It was for him. Mother said we should help homeless people. They don't get enough love. She gave away three of our old blankets too! I didn't wish to make it a whisper, but asking a homeless man to stay warm in winter? It would be like I was mocking him.

I turn the corner and hurry inside the cafe. Many people are packed inside. I can't spot her for a moment. Then there she is, light and white, like the snow. Her eyes calling me. I pull a chair and sit down. She feels so warm against this cold. And this time I dare ."Did you wait for long, mother?"