My Winter Home

I fell asleep with the window open again. 

The moon was full, gleaming and pristine against the indigo and Duke blue backdrop of winter sky; the cool contrast of the dark night, the chill of barren tree branches, and the icy winds, lulled me into peace. 

And then I woke up to find that my decision to keep my bedroom window open, my decision to become one with the December air, let all the heat out of the house, leaving me with a shiver, a cough, and some agitated parents. 

I recall sitting on the porch step for “just 10 more minutes” in the dead of winter to stare at Artemis’s lunar bow set in the night sky. I recall jumping into the snow in a t-shirt and shorts, letting the frozen flakes melt against my skin until it burned too much to bare. I recall walking to the lamp post outside my house in the middle of a nocturnal snow storm, and finding myself transported to a magical realm of white, and blue, and winter fae. 

The baby blue atmosphere is so much more vibrant in winter time. A monochromatic, crisp ocean that hovers above my parent’s home. I can’t help but lay in the dying grass, or packed snow, and lose myself in its waves.