Snowed-In

By: Crystal Silhouette

I rubbed my arms; trying to warm myself up even in the slightest bit. I sighed and stood up from the desk I was at, the crisply clean sheets of paper empty and weighted down by an unused pen. My fingers were so cold; they began to go numb just sitting there and doing nothing. I walked over to the thermostat and cranked it up to ninety degrees from the measly eighty-two it had been for the passed four days. My dad had always said that eighty-two degrees was a perfect temperature. Eighty-two degrees or not, there was a difference between winter and summer, and this was a cold eight-two degrees. I smiled to myself with the thought of my father. I always argued with him, even about such little things as the difference between a hot or cold eighty-two degrees. But it was always with a good heart. My family crossed my mind for a few moments and I mused in silent happiness that I had such a wonderful family.I had been gone for about a year and a half. Off on my own, living my own life as best I could. I guessed I was doing pretty well, aside from the fact I was freezing myself to death. I decided to turn up the thermostat to ninety-five. Then I rubbed my thighs, warming my hands with my jeans and walked toward the window. I looked to the bright outdoors, watching as delicate flakes of snow slowly drifted onto the ones that had settled through out the previous days. It looked so quiet. So peaceful. There was nothing but white everywhere. Buildings, cars, bushes, trees, everything was covered in white powder. It was all comforting and beautiful, when first I thought about it. A lot of things usually are. But I always get lost deeper and deeper into my thoughts. It was a habit I had since I could remember, always drifting off farther and farther into my own mind. Sometimes I would dream, others… would turn out far less pleasant. Sometimes, thoughts I had woke unknown fears in me. I gazed at the bright immaculate setting outside my window. Everything was perfect, no sight of dark colors; no browns, no green, not a single stain to taint the purity of the crystallized rains. But I looked closer and my thoughts darkened. So empty. There was no one outside. Not a child was seen frolicking in the winter blessing or building traditional snowmen or having exciting snowball wars with neighboring friends. It was so very desolate. No one walked down the streets, leaving footprints on the blanketed sidewalks; giving a sense of familiarity. There were no gossiping women talking outside about what news of yesterday. No lifelong friends discussing how well work had gone and how wonderful it was to finally be home for the day. Not even relatives standing outside their loved one’s door, waiting for an answer to their surprise visit knocking. It was all so desolate. So lonely.I wrapped my arms around myself tighter, depressing myself with thoughts of how much I had missed the company of family and friends. I knew no one came to gossip with me; no one was standing at my door hoping to spring holiday cheer as would I unexpectedly open the door. I was alone. I was out on my own living life by myself.

I turned into the empty house, bringing my attention away from the empty outside streets. It was to no avail that I did so. The house seemed so much more unwelcoming than the outdoors did. It was always a thought of mine that no matter how alone and cold you were outside, when you came home, you were home; some place familiar and genial. When my eyes browsed across the empty room, my spirits sank. I could only imagine a picture of once before. Days when my family would sit together in the living room and just be together, or times when my friends would gather to talk and share what ever it was they wanted to share. But not in this place. Not in this empty lonely place for me. Not this year.

My fingers were numb again. I crossed my arms and hid my hands underneath them, hoping to at least get a little feeling back into them. Silently, pensively, and quite solemnly I made my way to the small couch I had where the desk stood against. I curled up on the couch, keeping my own body heat in as I waited for the room temperature to be well warm enough for me. As I sat, I thought…

Horrid words for such a train of reflection. What if… so eerily frightening to even believe there were such possibilities. What if this was how I was to spend the majority of my life; living alone, never having anyone there for me? How would anyone be able to go through such a thing? How could I?? I knew the answer to such a question. I wouldn’t be able to. I would go mad… that’s what would happen. My heart began to race as I could feel searing tears well in my cold, dry eyes. I hugged my legs closer to my body as I began to shake of such a fear.

No. Not alone. Being alone was such a horrible thing. True, every now and then someone would need a break from everything and everyone, but there would always be someone to come back to. If I was truly alone… where would I go? What would I do? No questions answered… and who would even care when I was alone?

"Hey. Made you some cocoa." Spoke a light, maybe even cherry voice.

"Huh?" I stuttered, surprised.

"…Are you okay?" asked the same voice.

Green eyes looked down into my brown as I looked up.

"Tray…?" the word escaped my lips no more than a whisper.

"Yeah, you didn’t seem to noticed when I came in back from the store. You looked cold so I just made you a cup of cocoa while I was there putting the things away." He replied.

"But really though," he set the cup on the table in front of the couch and sat next to me, "are you alright?"

As soon as he finished his sentence, I wrapped my arms around him and huddled close. He was a bit surprised by it, but soon after, he held me in his arms.

"I was thinking again…" I answered.

"Hmm…" he replied, "What of that got you so upset?"

I paused and held him tighter before answering.

"I don’t want to be alone Tray." I spoke softly.

He thought for a moment and sighed, "You aren’t alone. And I’ll always be sure that you won’t be."

I sighed with relief. I felt horrible and Tray knew exactly what to say to me. He always did. That’s what I loved about him; always there, always knowing what to say, what to do. I wanted him with me always… and he promised me that.

He kissed my forehead and stroked my shoulders as we sat there at the couch and watched together as snow began to gracefully drift down through the window.