Fresh

One day I am looking at my neighborhood and it's all barren trees and yellow stubbled grass, dirt frozen into hard and un-dirt like mounds. Cute Capes look ugly - small and cold. The Colonials appear looming and secretive. The Ranches are too lanky and trailer-park-ish and the old Brady-Bunch era Split levels look sad and as if they are trying too hard to fit in. Harsh crows swoop eerily from branch to branch, the sky looks unforgiving and the sun can barely warm to a faded yellow. Every car is the same color: dried sand and salt. And I think, "this, this is awful."

The next morning I am looking at my neighborhood and it's a picture postcard. Elegantly slender trees holding up fluffs of snow on each outstretched limb, every house magically transformed into something adorable, sweet, and inviting by a cap of white snow and little layers of snow on each door step and window box. The cold hard ground is swallowed by blankets of freshly fallen snow and the sandy gritty driveways are unidentifiable, every lawn looks manicured and perfectly designed - frosted by little lawn elves. Streetlamps glow in a warm and safe way under a heavy gray sky and the snow that continues to fall swirls delicately through the lamplight like butterflies or miniature angels.

It's all so fresh, so new... so beautiful.
I wish there could be a snowfall of my soul somedays - a covering up of the old and ugly parts of me, a chance to be beautiful if only for one day.