I sat watching the snowman melt through my window. Every day, I checked to see if he was still there, holding fast. Today, his hat had fallen crooked. His middle torso drooped like sagging shoulders, but his eyes remained firm. His stare resonated through me. I couldn’t help but feel connected somehow, but I couldn’t place the feeling. The glass fogged, and I wiped the mist with my palm for one blurry last look. It’s much warmer indoors, but I couldn’t help but feel like maybe we were both melting. It feels like that sometimes. No matter how much you try to remain strong and steady, the world melts it all away.
His cold isolation bothered me, but I told myself he was fine. He was made that way. And then I began to sink into my sofa cushions. The fabric folds in around me as I assimilate into the picture of comfort. Unsure of where I end, and the comfort truly begins.
A cold shiver breaks me from contemplation. The crisp air runs down my back. My neck feels bare. Exposed. Confused, I see my scarf discarded on the snowy white ground beneath me. But why am I outside? I look back to the window and see my reflection clearly for the first time… I’m the snowman.
Is this how it ends, with a cold revelation?
The door swings open, and a young boy runs to hug me, and I finally find my purpose as my reflection melts away.
About the Creator
Simon George
I write poetry, fiction, and non-fiction. In 2021, I published my debut book "The Truth Behind The Smile" a self-help guide for your mental health based on my personal experience with depression. Go check it out.
IG: @AuthorSimonGeorge
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Comments (2)
I really liked this line “ It’s much warmer indoors, but I couldn’t help but feel like maybe we were both melting.” You contrast the boy with the snowman really well in the first half, and I like the idea of him being mirrored. Nice!
May the day come soon when once again you might say, "Happy Birthday!" & feel that hug & sense of purpose again.