Snow

Snow is beautiful.

I've never really appreciated that sentiment, until now. For all of my life I hated snow. It's cold and wet. It freezes all it touches and, if ever given the chance, it kills. It destroys the lives of plants and animals alike. It freezes soil, water and swallows the Earth itself. The cold has always been synonymous with death to me, and snow has always brought the cold. That is why I have always hated snow.

But snow is beautiful.

I see that now. You only truly appreciate all life has to offer when you have no life left to give. When lying upon the ground, moments from death, ones mind is almost always swimming in regret. Thoughts of the past; all the things you could have done better, all the words you should have never said and all the words you should have. Regret envelops us and darkens our mind. Regret ruins our last moments and makes us wish for nothing more than a second chance. It makes us run from the pearly gates of heaven, it chases us away from the reaper's door and it creates a fear of that welcoming light we once wished to see. Yet, as I lay here dying, my mind is filled with only one thought.

Snow is beautiful.

Flakes of purest white glide down from the heavens, burying me as I slip away. They fall so slowly and with such calming grace that I cannot help but stare. How can something so cold at the touch appear so warm and inviting?

My sight drifts from the sky and instead to the meadow all around me. Once lush with green, it is now a blanket of white. It mixes with the red that I am leaving behind, creating a gorgeous contrast. Colours grow brighter even as my sight dims. The pain I felt no longer exists. All that does is the white mixing with the red. Flakes fall upon my tranquil grave, bringing me peace. No regrets dampen my thoughts and no fear burdens my soul. I drift, but my eyes never look away. I die, but my eyes never close. I stare as the flakes fall upon me and I stare when only one thought remains, until it at last disappears.

Snow is beautiful.