Jan 20
the snow
the snow whips across my face as i fly down the mountain. nature's snow machine, my father jokes. i feel as though i cannot fall and that i will never die and that everything will be alright. but i suppose that's just a feeling one gets in the snow. the wind roars as i slice left and right, a predictable pattern. she's happy with my work. so am i.
we settle down in the lodge, sipping hot cocoa and giggling about powdered sugar and snow. you tuck your hair out of your face as you hold the cup close. this is the most beautiful thing we've done and i don't know if we'll do it again. i love you. the snow covers us now.