The Emotional Intelligence of Snowflakes

My Mother told me I was a reflection of the internal order of things, which made me unique.

She said my molecules were aligned to maximize my bonds' attracted forces and minimize the repulsive ones. It sounds like something a makeup ad would say, and I don't trust her.

My Mother told me I was a genuine original. She says this to all my siblings, so it sounds prosaic.

She told me that my temperature was a critical factor in how I would come to form. It could be both too hot or too cold. I pointed out such binaries work against creating a thriving sense of self.

My Mother said the atmosphere conditions around me created some of my most intricate traits. I told her that nature versus nurture was a hot topic and that she should explore this more in therapy.

She said that when I am fully grown, I will fall from the sky in a beautiful dusting; children will try to catch me on their noses or tongues and make paper crafts in homage to my beauty. I will exist for a short time, the ephemeral idea of me being far more beloved than reality. She said I would make things slippery, difficult to see, and often keep people indoors, far away from me. I asked her then what the point of existing was, and she said nature's hand was a brilliant artist determined to show man that beauty was everywhere. Men never listen, Mother said.