If I had to look back at 2017 and how it played out, I can easily say it was one of my tougher years.
I’m back in the mountains.
It’s the place I come to when I’m at a crossroad; it’s also the place where I realized I wanted to be a writer.
Of course, my mom had predicted this a long time ago, but it was only when I was up here, did I truly accept it.
When I first got Lupus, my father used to always tell me about the city of Berlin. Its rise to power, its inevitable fall and the place it has become today.
But it wasn’t until much later that I understood its historical significance and the relevance behind him telling me about it.
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.