Suddenly there's snow

When I awoke this morning the light of day had already begun to roast the inside of my bedroom. My eyes cracked open to the dawn breaking through my window in its ever increasing effort to light every corner of this room. Dancing in the wind, the curtains gave the only sign of relief this day could muster. There was no real reason to be up quite this early, no work to rush off to, no school to dread attending, no friends to come crashing through the door in their fiendish attempts to lure me out to soak up that hot flood of light raining down from the sky. Even as I lay in bed with beads of sweat sprinkling across the bridge of my nose I could recall the sweet bite of winter from the first snow of this past year and the friends that were abandoned to those sparkling white days. With a sigh and a sliver of hope for something extraordinary, I forced myself from the sweltering imprisonment of my duvet never giving even the slightest notice to the goose prickles that covered my arms.

When she moved us here at the beginning of June she promised “adventure” and “excitement” and “new and wonderful opportunities that kid’s your age wait their whole lives for”. It’s all just a big ruse though. She doesn’t even know what’s so exciting about southern California. It’s not as if we’re located in the “cool” parts of this state. We’re miles away from the coast locked in a kitty litter sandbox of a town. The only vegetation seems to be the spindly things that surround our house and have the audacity to call themselves a tree.

Downstairs, through the hallway, I can hear her making what she will attempt to call breakfast. Most likely a piece of toast and a hardboiled egg that somehow the insides of will have yet to reach fully cooked capacity. Last time she tried to make eggs she tried her hand at scrambled and she wound up with the eggs being both charcoal black and yet, also runny. No amount of salt or pepper could cure that inconsistent taste of bland and burnt. But she tries. I always give her that; no matter the situation, no matter the train wreck of a hand dealt, she always tries.

So there I sit, at the kitchen island, with a plate of egg and toast and a slice of something green… that looks suspiciously like someone else may have already ate and digested it; and with a smile on my face and a slightly sarcastic “Thank you, this looks delicious,” I tentatively pick around the green food in question.

She just gives me a look, raised eyebrow and a tilted head, and calls out my bullshit with a sing song “You’re hilarious”.

“No, seriously, I’ve never seen a meal look more delicious. Especially this already digested slice of greenery that accompanies what would have been a boring piece of toast.”

“That’s avocado, you uncultured swine.” I swear I could see her smile as she rolls her eyes and begins cleaning the kitchen. “I’m gonna head up to the national park today to hike a little and take some photos, would you like to join me?”

Her half expectant hopeful turn towards me feels almost as if she’s trying to fulfil that “excitement” and “adventure” she had been promising since we left home. I don’t particularly feel like traipsing through cacti and sand and things that are somehow called mountains but more closely resemble ant mounds made of rocks, but it would feel nice to get out of the house. So I agree and almost instantly regret it the minute we walk out the front door.

The assault of hot air on my face is reminiscent of cremators and house fires and molten lava cascading down to devour entire mountainsides in inky black and bright candy reds and orange. How on earth people live in this part of the country just astounds me. The air is so thick to breath I almost feel as if I’m choking down warm cotton balls. We climb in her Jeep Wrangler and set off for the park, wherever that is. All I see around me is miles and miles of rocky, sandy earth with the occasional dot of “mountain” on the horizon. The color palette of this town is that of the ever exciting brown and the even more astonishing tan, and every single shade of dirt speck in between. My mind slowly drifts back to glorious climbing snow covered mountains, days spent on snowboards, and playing in the type of fluffy white snow that Santa Claus himself would die to make snow angels in. I can almost feel the flakes of crystalized water on my skin.

That day dream is ripped from my mind when I feel the Jeep stop and I open my eyes to more khaki colored land. “We’re here!” She hops out of the vehicle with an excitement that is absolutely fabricated for my sake. I look around us and see past the ropes that deem this section of dirt a parking lot there seem to be trails leading up and around the ant mounds that try to pass for mountains. All around the trails are cactus and tumbleweeds and other vegetation that seem to silently scream for hydration. She hands me a backpack, a water bottle, and a piece of paper that if I had to guess was a guide to the trails that surround us.

“I’m guessing you don’t wanna hang out with your big sister all day so I’m giving you this; and my rules are simple, you will send me a text every half hour letting me know where you are, if you’re ready to go or not, and most importantly that you are alive and okay. Got it?”

“Got it, cap’n” I mock salute her and elicit another eyeroll and a frown.

“Okay, smart aleck, I’m gonna be going down this trail here,” She points to the east leading trail and what looks to be about a 7 mile hike one way, “If you want to join me, you are more than welcome to!”

“No, thanks. I’ll take my chances with the wilderness”

“Have it your way then. You better text me!” She takes off at a jog heading east. I can already guess that she’ll be jogging most of the way because, unlike the rest of the sane world, she likes to torture herself with daily exercise and miles upon miles of running trails.

I look to the west, there’s an opening to a trail that looks to lead into the mountains. I sigh as I realize this tan ocean of dirt surrounding me is now my reality and I set off down the trail hoping once again for something… anything to bring me out of this place.

*

My breathing begins to regulate the further onto this trail I run, there’s a brief moment I wish for the icy chill of winter’s air but the moment passes when I remember how often that sludge of snow would get into my socks. The summer’s back home were nothing like the summer’s here. Back home, the days could be hot but the air was never quite this thick during those warm days. Besides, the landscapes here are just absolutely breathtaking. The sunrises cast this shadow across the rock covered mountains that turns them almost a shade of lilac. There’s a hint of pastel in the skies and the shadows. Gorgeous blues and purples smear across the subtle caramels and rosy browns. I know the desert isn’t a place most people would want to call home but it’s places like this that captivate me most. Places where each shade of a color has its own characteristically unique contribution to the landscape. It’s easy to love the dark evergreen and emeralds of spruce and pine trees scattered across a blue snow capped mountain, it takes more appreciation and a kinder eye to see each shade of the desert and love the metamorphosis throughout the day. That’s what I hope Ely finds out here at least.

I come to a stop in front of a park sign telling about the wildlife in this area. I know past this sign there is a trail leading down to a small rock alcove. I think of Ely back in the parking lot and wonder momentarily about how hard it must be to have moved here after living a whole life somewhere else. Did I make the right choice? I know I love the desert and I make good money here but will Ely adjust, will Ely learn to love this place just as much as I do? My stomach feels as if something heavy has overtaken it, as if the guilt I feel has manifested itself into electricity that surrounds me.

Realizing that I am just standing here roasting in the sun I take off again, down the trail. Before long I slowly begin to realize the once scorching summer day was slowly dropping off to a more balmy temperature. The forecast did not include any storms this week, regardless of how bad this area of the country could use the rain. I wonder if I should head back and find Ely in case there is a storm coming our way when I turn the corner of a rock over hang and, as if my mind materialized the subject of my thoughts, there stood Ely. Eyes closed and standing amid a scattering of rock and cacti. The temperature immediately dropped as soon as my eyes set on her.

Confusion and cold nestled into my mind. What is going on with the temperature?

“Ely, how did you get over here?” I begin to take a step toward her. Her eyes startle open.

“I just want Snow,” I can see her arms covered in goose prickles.

Then, against all logic and reason, I feel icy flakes dropping onto my arms. I look up into the blue expanse of desert sky and feel snow materializing onto my face as if a winter cloud hung above me sprinkling icy droplets down to cover me whole. 

*

I was thinking of snow. I was dreaming of snow. I was wanting it, hoping for it, dying to be standing amid a blanket of white. I heard her voice and saw her standing there.

She looked hazy and somehow not entirely real. Hadn’t she gone a completely different direction? I could feel a buzzing in my gut, a tingling in my hands, something in my throat that felt like power and compulsion and the need to say something.

“I just want Snow”.

Then without warning, and certainly without reason to back up its presence, there was snow.

She looks up and I follow suit. No clouds dot the blue sky.

And yet, there on my face, white icy crystals of snow.

I look around and can see the snow covering the sandy desert surrounding us. Only the heaviest blizzards can cover a ground this quickly. And yet there is a perfect beautiful circle of white blanketing the ground around us.

Certainly I must be dreaming. Certainly there is no logical explanation for snow in the middle of a southern California desert on a hot summer day. And yet, as I think that, I realize it is no longer hot. It’s chilly and I’m suddenly wishing for the fur lined parka that’s sitting, forgotten, in a box at the top of the closet in the bedroom I left this morning.

“What in the world is happening right now?” I can see the confusion plastered on her face that somehow also closely resembles something else, something I’ve never seen on her face before, fear.