12: June 2016 #05 - What Happens in Winter
Authored by Isabelle Wedin
What Happens in Winter
By the first snowfall, I'm paler than ever, wrapped up, too, in my fluffy coat, just like the trees. I try to start up a conversation, but they just tell me to shed my leaves already so we can all get back to sleep. The snow freezes; I freeze, my muscles useless. The snow cracks; my hands crack like bark. I go outside and rub lotion on the snow; it helps for a bit but then comes back worse. The next morning, all the streets and sidewalks, even the parts covered in lotion, are ice, every square inch. I chip at it for a while, but underneath there's always more ice. I stay out there chipping until nightfall, chipping away at myself, but never get down to the pavement. I resolve to stay inside until it warms up again. When it does, the snow turns to slush and floods the streets; it fills my shoes until it displaces my feet, and suddenly I'm slush up through my knees and then my thighs and then I'm the puddle you mistake for asphalt.