Snow has been falling for almost an hour now. I awoke to see a dusting, but now it’s nearly up to my knees. I’ve got nowhere to be, though, and I’m watching comfortably from the warmth of my blanket and a cup of tea. Music plays softly from my speaker; I serenely watch the snow fall. Hours pass and the snow settles at waist level. Sighing, I appreciate this week off from work I’ve taken.
There’s something beautiful about a big open field; I used to dream about them. The endless green grass, wild flowers growing arbitrarily, wandering around them aimlessly. It’s a kind of calm bliss only achievable in a big open field, unaccompanied on a sunlit day. Maybe it’s something to do with how I spent my childhood, often around fields of lush grass and the soft sound of people just out of sight. Maybe that’s why I have such an affinity for them, they bring back fond memories from a time I only vaguely remember.
A gentle breeze passes, I feel sempiternal, unbreakable, invincible. Laying in the grass, I listen to the birds sing, the faint sounds of cars and people, just far enough away to not be bothersome, but still close enough so I don’t feel alone. I’m at peace, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.