Based off the song Falling Snow by Brandon Fiechter
Small puffs of white flutter from the misty grey skies as an everlasting chill rests in the open winter air. Children play along the streets, throwing snowballs, crafting snowmen, and simply running around, basking in the cold beauty. Couples gaze upon the colorless wonder from the warmth of their other, exchanging words of fondness and affection. Parents watch their children play as they prepare hot meals to warm them from their icy pastimes.
From my hilltop I look upon them with a wistful smile upon my face as pellets of frost continue to blanket the ground beneath my feet, observing the motions of such wondrous life and energy. It brings such joys and sorrows to see what I cannot have, a pinch of greed pinning itself into my heart like the stinging frost. To see what I could have had.
A young child wanders intently towards my hilltop, climbing upon unsteady and clumsy grounds, getting to crawl like a small animal to reach me with more ease. As she reaches the top, I lower myself to my knees to greet the young one and perhaps converse for a time, a warmth filling my chest as the promise of attention comes climbing up the hillside. When she arrives, we exchange words of diversity, beginning and ending topic upon topic.
As parents begin calling their children inside for dinner, I feel my warmth leave me. However, as the young girl is preparing to leave, she takes her scarf and offers it up to me. Though I politely decline at first, she pushes it into my palms and waves a heartfelt goodbye, making her way down the hill towards her abode. With her scarf in hand, I relent and begin to wrap it around my shoulders and neck, feeling a warmth return near quickly as it left.
The next day, I gaze upon the people from my hilltop once more as children play, couples bask in the atmosphere, and parents prepare another hot feast for their kin. Once again, a young girl climbs my hill and strikes up more friendly banter, warming my heart once more and leaving me with a jacket once belonging to her mother. I place it around my cold body and feel it fill me with a comforting hearth more welcoming than the last. I smile upon the streets, watching her back as she shrinks in the distance, my icy skin thawing more and more.
The next day, I watch them all repeat the motions and once more, I find her at the base of my hill, climbing up to come exchange more words and warmth. As she nears the top, her foot slips and she goes tumbling, falling, crashing down my hill. Her small frame knocking against stones giving rest to those passed. The warmth I'd begun to feel slips out as her mother rushed from their home, utterly aghast as she held her daughter in her arms and carried her away. In that moment, I felt no warmth, only the painful grip of winter's frigid winds and deathly night.
The next day, I no longer had eyes for the lively repetition of daily life in the streets, lying upon my hilltop with a bitterness throughout every inch of my hollow form, watching the snow fall and settle upon the cruel sheets of white sheathing the hillside. Many a winter upon this hill and I'd never felt more alone and woeful than I did every second of every minute atop this hill.
As I contemplate the next year, I hear a call, a small voice that chased away the snow and ice that filled my heart. Deigning to gaze below my hill's heights, there I saw her, waving to me with a sunny smile upon her face alongside her mother, who looked up the hill to me with a beatific stare. The two climbed my hill, taking great caution, my heart filling up again with such a heat with every step they took. When they peaked the hill, I took the girl into my arms, a great wave of relief flooding within my form as I hugged her and kept the embrace for as long as I could.
A comment came about how cold I felt and the mother kneeled down and joined the huddle, lighting my heart and giving my spirit heat and comfort. As I thanked them again and again, I could feel my heart soar as I was called away, finally, from my hilltop. A lonely little place for so long had become a home, a hearth of family and comfort. As I pass on, I wish upon them all the warmth in the world, even when the throes of ice and snow seem to be far too much, may they always find passion and heat.
May you always be free.