There’s a vase of wilted flowers by my bedside that I refuse to throw away. Outside my window, there’s a tree the colour of the setting sun; its leaves are hanging so loose like they’re about to fall. After a minute or so, a light breeze sweeps one of those leaves right past me. It takes a mid air twirl before gently falling to the ground.
A butterfly is fluttering around the potted plants; there’s a jingle in its flight, but its wings are mellow.
I turned 24 on a Friday of the previous week, and for the weekend that followed it, I found myself celebrating with friends, feasting on basil dumplings, marveling at the deliciousness of my pizza, posing before my camera and laughing at every joke I heard.
I’ve always loved snow globes. There’s something enchanting about the way the flakes slowly fall inside of them…like a controlled mini hail storm.
The closest I’ve ever gotten to a snow globe like experience is watching the mist settle between the mountains – a phenomenon I’ve been privy to since I was 3.
It all started when my granddad used to take my dad into the mountains during his holidays; a tradition my dad continued with me. It was beautiful watching the mountains and lake disappear behind the mist…and then magically somehow reappear.