The Descent
Contributor
Written by
Deborah Hollins
February 2012
Contributor
Written by
Deborah Hollins
February 2012

Looking out the kitchen window, waiting for the water to boil for my first coffee of the day, I watch the snow fall. And for some reason I see the snow, really see it, for the first time. I see the snow not as a collective force of cold and ice, but as individual flakes, crystal beauties descending like feathers from the sky. I watch one perfect flake make the last five feet of its long journey as it sways and circles among the many others. I watch two join together, finding each other, in the final inches of their lives. 

I realize that the life span of a snow flake is measured in inches, not in minutes and I wonder if that would make a difference in how I experience life. That if instead of measuring my life span as one long horizon, I measured it as the vertical decline back to the yielding Earth that I come from. That if instead of dying, I descend and I do so as the snow flake; gently and gracefully returning to the body of my Mother; joining with others of my kind to blanket Her. What if “pure as the driven snow” referred to the manner in which I submit to the falling, the calling, for me to come home?

I imagine diving into life, arms wide open as I journey from the clouds, down into the vastness of mountains and rivers and rolling green hills, welcomed as I meet with a slumbering body that yearns for the silence I bring with me.

I visualize a perfect descent, swaying and circling among the many others, no two the same.

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