Snowy Hearts

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. The gentle descent of the snow formed a perfectly white blanket over the brush and covered the muddy imperfection of the great Earth beneath it past even the infinite horizon. The dark, broody trees stood stoically against the wind, and, for a while, there was not even one creature that dared to show its face under the moonlight as we drove by, until at some point along the winding road a deer had either mustered up the courage or was stupid enough to dart out in front of us. We were probably the only car on this lonely, winding road for another 30 miles, so I was able to swerve the car and tragedy was avoided.

And yet this event was still not enough to break the silence between us. Sonya and I. Despite having been so desperate to break that silence, I could do nothing more than look forward and drive further in a seemingly altruistic silence. I couldn’t tell what she could possibly have been thinking, because I was too scared to even look at her face, but something tells me she had that same facetiously apathetic look on her face as I did. At least, I hope she was forcing it in the same way I was… because the alternative was that we really were doomed, this relationship, this love, and I don’t think my heart could handle that reality.

In the beginning, it was so easy. And perhaps that easiness wasn’t unique to our situation; after all, it’s easier to love someone when you’re still learning each other’s minds, wills, desires… and before you let slip those words that you regret forever because they build walls between you higher and higher until you can’t even see each other. And sanctimoniously you blame each other, yell at each other— more willing to believe that the other is at fault for the sake of your own perceived integrity because you can no longer see her on the other side of that wall you’ve both built up together, pointing cozen, withered fingers at each other, wondering what ever possibly went wrong and if you were even in love to begin with, or if you were blinded by the prospect of what they could have been in your mind.

I’ve never felt so trapped in a place I myself elected to live in. Perhaps it’s a sort of naive hope, but I can’t quit. We used to be so happy together. And I know we can get back on that path. But I don’t know how to break down this brick wall.

When we finally arrived, I parked the car just out front and simply stared out the front window towards the cabin and watched as the soft snow rested upon the roof, the porch, and the ground around it.

I love snow. I love how it covers the imperfections of the Earth, of the cabin with a perfect, smooth white. No more cracks, no more scars…

“Well?” Sonya finally managed to squeak. She said it so timidly, as if it took her the entire drive here until this moment to finally muster it out of her mouth.

“Hm…?” I said, snapping out of my haze. I became so lost in imagining my heart and my mind could be snowed on that I had forgotten where I even was.

“Are… are we going inside?” She still wouldn’t even look into my eyes.

“Oh. Um.” I scrambled for an appropriate way to navigate this unnecessarily uncomfortable situation, and the best I came up with after much thought was a brilliant “Yeah.”

We both got out of the car, which, again, was much more awkward than it ever should have been, and approaching the door, I dug in my pockets for the key. I was having some difficulty, and Sonya just turned her head and stared away from me into the dark woods. When I finally found the key hiding underneath my wallet, I continued to struggle as I attempted to unlock the very unintuitive doorknob. Again, she looked away. And in these moments, it became painfully apparent how silent the world was. The wind had ceased and even beyond the horizon, there was not even a sound to be heard, save the jiggling of the key in the doorknob, attempting in vain to let us in and out of the cold midnight that surrounded us.

Eventually, I unlocked the door and let out a pathetic “ha!” under my breath to (unsuccessfully) distill the tension. Almost as soon as the door was opened, without a word, Sonya sped into the cabin and almost bumped into me as if I was never there at all. Even though I already felt like she hated me, I was taken aback by this gesture, and when I had recovered a moment later, I stepped in. She had already taken her shoes off and placed them on the rack and was nowhere to be seen.

The warmth of the cabin greatly contrasted the bitter but beautiful cold of the outside world. And if not for the ancient lamp hanging above the porch fighting for its life illuminating a small part of the Earth, you would never have even known there was any cold at all in the whole world. The mirth which emanated from the brick fireplace, beautifully harmonized with the mahogany floors and a tall ceiling created a beautiful sense of both majesty and comfort, and I truly marveled in its beauty.

“Are you going to come to bed or not?” I looked over, and I was met with a stare aimed towards my feet, her countenance reminiscent of a sickly child, suffering in both physical and emotional pain, repressed with the desire to maybe pretend like everything is okay so that you don’t have to face the reality of the walls you’ve built around you.

I didn’t respond with much else besides a nervous nod, after which I followed her into the bedroom, which was lit only by an antique lamp on her bedside which intermittently flickered every few minutes.

I took off most of my clothes and lied down on the other side of the bed and buried all but my face under the heavy blanket which spanned the entire large bed.

She lied down on her side with her back facing towards me, and that, in combination with her continual silence, I assumed she wanted to sleep undisturbed.

As usual, I read her mind incorrectly, as after a few moments, she whimpered “Say something.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. We had spent the past three hours in almost complete silence. I had almost gotten used to it. But at the same time, the naive hope in my heart was screaming and clawing at my mind to say something. Anything.

“It’s um. It’s a pretty nice cabin, huh?”

She sighed softly.

I’m an idiot. Goodness, why am I so stupid? She doesn’t want to talk about that.

I find frequently that, when given the opportunity to fix and correct something I care about, I completely and clumsily fail, whether out of sweating unsurety or fearful emotional insecurity, I don’t know. I just know I mess everything up. And I definitely messed this up.

“It’s pretty,” she whispered. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell she was faking a small smile with tears beginning to enter her eyes.

“Yeah…”

Think of something. Literally anything.

She had changed into a tank top and shorts while I was admiring the cabin, and I stared now at her shoulders and the beautiful, feminine dip of her waist. I had absolutely no idea what to say, so I instead extended my arm apprehensively and very slowly toward her hip. My hand quivered slightly, but as soon as it rested on her body, my hand remained perfectly still and calm. But this ostensible victory was short-lived. She slowly leaned her waist away from me, indicating that she in fact did not want to be touched. Although who knows— I’m almost always wrong about what she wants. I used to think it was all her fault, but maybe I’m just an idiot.

There was more silence that built up tension until I popped.

“Why do you hate me?” I said defeatedly.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me?” I said slightly more aggressively.

“I don’t hate you.” She sat up slightly and stared into the room with an annoyed countenance.

“Then why can’t you look me in the eyes!?” I burst out. “I don’t know what you think or feel because you just won’t tell me. I don’t know how you could pretend to love me when you refuse to even look at me. Do you want to continue like this forever? Are we happy yet!?” I buried my face in my quivering, furious hand.

What followed was the most uncomfortable tension I have ever experienced in my life. I watched as her face slowly morphed from defensive anger to callous apathy to pensiveness, all while looking just about everywhere in the room except where I sat on the other side of the bed. There was an invisible wall in the middle of the bed. It was full of cracks and moss, and yet despite its dejected state, it stood audaciously in defiant spite from petty anger and childishly exacted revenge that had slowly grown in intensity over the course of several months.

Maybe it was time to throw away my stupid, childish hope. Just like how you cannot resurrect a book that has been burned to ashes, perhaps this simply is irrecoverably over.

I had the perfect opportunity to love this woman for the rest of eternity among the brilliant stars, and I messed it up. And perhaps not all of it was my fault. By some cruel, divine mediation, we fell in love when I wasn’t ready. I thought I was ready, I thought life had prepared me well enough… but it seems I was to be taught a lesson in humility and how to cooperate. But I learned my lesson too late and now… and now I can do nothing but stare in searing agony at our book as it burns into ash, carried away by the wistful winds of time…

“I’m sorry.”

I looked over in disbelief. When I was met with her teary, starry eyes, I almost fell off of the bed, for fear that I was hallucinating or perhaps I had at long last perished of a broken heart and I was among the angels in the heavens up above.

It had been 3 months and 21 days since I had heard those words from her mouth. And to hear and see it with such sincerity was more heartwarming and reassuring than I could ever hope to express in words. I reached for her hand, and there was no invisible wall to stop me this time.

Her sniffles then collapsed into weeping as she held my hand tightly and laid her head on my hand. I’ve never been one to cry easily, but the complex, indescribable combination of emotions finally broke me. And tears slowly filled my eyes and cascaded one at a time down my cheeks. I was staggeringly happy from her heartbroken apology, while also so distraught from seeing her weep so profusely. And yet I received calm tranquility from the knowledge that this undignified moment needed to be shared between us if we were to have any hope of returning to the glorious love we once had.

And so it was that I placed my other hand on the back of her messy hair and leaned her head onto my chest, gently caressing her head.

“I’m sorry too, Sonya,” I whispered into her ear, as I kissed her forehead. Her cries had returned to the occasional sniffle, and she simply nodded.

When faced with intense adversity, we often become the opposite of our usual selves in order to overcompensate in a sort of defensive mechanism to hide our vulnerable heart. Over time, she had become snappy and bitter, while hiding her real desire to love and to receive love from me; while I had become insecure, doubtful, and pathetically appeasing, while underneath being miserable and increasingly bitter and resentful. I continually suppressed that bitter hopelessness in my naive hope that she would throw down that wall, and she continued to become increasingly distant, which caused me to slowly give up and distance myself, which made her feel unloved, and this continued in an endless cycle of sorrowful bitterness.

I gently placed my finger under her chin and softly lifted her head up to look at me. I had almost forgotten I wanted to kiss her— I became so lost in her starry, dark eyes that yet again I had forgotten where I was. It is said that the eyes are the window to the soul; and her soul has the divine magnificence of a glorious galaxy majestically painting the empty canvas of the cosmos with bright, evocative colors and speckles of distant stars scattered throughout. It’s impossible not to fall in love with a woman with eyes like these.

As I leaned in, I watched her calm countenance be broken by a smile she tried so desperately to hide as she tried in vain to contain her joy. As our lips met, I could feel her now unashamed smile pressed against my face. As the night went on, our smiles faded into pensive passion, absorbed by the overwhelming emotions and desires of a love that had almost forgotten its own name. No amount of posh, grand gestures in the whole world could’ve ever amounted to the passionate love that literally emanated from our bodies onto each other. It was the happiest moment of my life.

. . .

When I woke up, I saw the sunlight cascade from the living room into the bedroom gracefully onto Sonya. And in this moment, I realized that beauty was not in idealized perfection. It is when the snow melts and we see the grime underneath that we can finally plant the seed that sprouts gracefully into a beautiful flower. When we idealize and expect a perfect blanket of snow to cover those we love, we become blind to the hearty soil with which beautiful flowers and mighty trees may be planted.

Seeing her now in her mismatched underwear and messy, tangled hair, I understand now why the bears awaken from their slumber and why the birds fly back home to sing their lovely song in the spring. If we can survive winter, we can find the full beauty of nature in its majestic imperfection, ready to encompass us in the loving warmth of the sun; but only if we lose our inhibitions and idealizations and are willing to step outside and bask in the glorious sun.

We spent the rest of the weekend walking among the evergreens, drawing hearts in the snow, riding trains that pass through the snowy mountains, drinking hot chocolate, and cuddling under big, fluffy blankets. And, well, you know what couples do when they’re alone.

The morning we were leaving, I cumbersomely waddled to the car, carrying all of my stuff on my arms and shoulders. Sonya was behind me, carrying her stuff when suddenly I was struck in the back of the neck, as snow exploded around me. I looked over my shoulder exasperatedly, and when she saw my face, she giggled so hard that she couldn’t even stand up straight. Her smile reached from both ends of her round, soft face that made her countenance seemingly glow with immeasurable joy. Her eyes sparkled as they always did when she was happy, and my heart completely melted into a puddle.

While laughing, she had almost turned around completely. I dropped all of my things immediately on the snow and hastily put together a snowball and threw it directly at her butt. After I successfully sniped my target, she glared at me with a childish competitiveness, trying not to smile. After I returned a nervous smile, she suddenly ducked down and hastily gathered snow in her hands. I darted towards her and she laughed so hard that her pitiful throw was easy for me to dodge as I tackled her into the soft snow.

She was laughing now harder than I had ever heard her laugh, and the immeasurable joy that gave me is simply and utterly indescribable. She facetiously demanded I get off of her, and I retorted with a sly “Make me.”

I forgot this was, in fact, Sonya. She pushed back as hard as she could and it caught me off guard. We both showed obvious exertion, as we wrestled in the snow. Eventually, seeing each other’s ridiculous faces, our serious competition devolved yet again into laughter as I fell on top of her. I lifted myself up and stared into her galactic eyes. We stared at each other in a peaceful silence, until, after a moment, Sonya said “I love you.”

I suppose such a statement was quite obvious, given what had occurred over the course of the weekend… and yet, this proclamation was notwithstanding shocking to me.

Nobody in my entire life had told me they loved me without simply returning my proclamation with a “too” haphazardly appended to the end. I couldn’t believe my ears; or at least my insecurity couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to love me.

“I love you too,” I said, with a modest smile on my face.

When we started this trip, we both secretly believed this getaway was going to be a terrible mistake. But I think we can now both confidently say that this was the greatest thing that ever happened to us and I couldn’t be happier. We will definitely be having another weekend getaway soon.