My memory just took me back to an image of a street light I saw through our living room where we lived when I was a kid. Big thick snowflakes were dancing in it's warm almost orange light. It reminded me how the snow just kept on falling and falling, and falling. Cold flakes painting the dark night in white. It was so quiet you could hear the random car slowly drive by even though the snow blanket did it's best in muffling every sound. No one was walking out there. Everyone was inside and maybe already asleep.
I had no lights on nor candles lit in our living room. No music or tv disturbing the darkness and quietness. Turning on the low lamp next to the couch gave me enough light to see to write in my diary: A notebook, the cover was fabric, mellow colored flowers. Holding it in my hands, but I wouldn't open it just yet. Not for a while. I was sitting on the couch, staring out the window. Eyes losing focus as mind started to wander. Such a solitude. No sign of any other living being. Just my knowledge of it. A world without snow, with sun and daylight and careless noise seemed almost not possible.
Right there, I had captured that very moment in my heart and locked away until now.
I think I stayed on that couch, maybe even slept there, the whole night. I wasn't sad. I might perhaps have been a bit lonely but I believe I wanted to cherish just that. There was an empowering beauty to it. Regardless of who else existed or not I knew I did, with such a fierce will.
