Ari Strella

Winter’s Love. Top Story - September 2021.

I crouched behind the clump of bushes, watching her. Her long dark hair was dotted with crystals as they tumbled from the sky. Her clear blue eyes lifted to gaze at the heavens as she soared into the air. She slid away from me, then giggled as she was propelled forward again. The chains of the swing set looked like rivers, twisted beneath her gloved fingertips. Her pink hat was daintily perched upon her crown, a sharp contrast to the deep, rich chocolate of her hair, trailing out behind her with the wind as she swung forward. Her laugh broke the winter silence as it rang out, chimes in the wind. I closed my eyes and savored the richness of it. Recollection of the sound sparked longing deep within my chest, a pain that outweighed the cold upon my bare feet or the bitter wind upon my back. I longed to go to her, to embrace her once more. She would not recognize me now, I thought angrily. I returned my gaze to the summer angel immersed in winter as she innocently played, oblivious to my surveillance. She swung high in the air now, soaring above the ground; her eyes glittered mischievously as she shifted her grip on the chains. All at once, she let go and flew, a wingless bird soaring over the white powder. She crash landed into a drift of snow that exploded upon impact, into cold, downy crystals. She grinned and a giggle burst out of her. Her bliss was overwhelming, washing off of her in waves of joy. So contagious it was that I involuntarily let out a soft barking laugh.