Sunset

It was cold, and getting colder. The temperature hovered just above freezing, but didn’t feel like it. I was all decked in knitted goods: hat, hand warmers, a scarf around my nose. I would move the scarf to take a sip of cocoa and then pull it back up again before I wound up like Rudolf.

The house had heating. The house was cozy and full of abandoned fleeces waiting to be picked up. I could have gone in, but I didn’t. It was worth the cold because of the horizon. The snow, unblemished by feet, was pristine. The sun painted the sky first in pink, then in gold, and then orange and red, ever darkening. The colors reflected off of the whiteness in subtle hints and hues. The clouds gave it all dimension, soaking up the rays with their fluffy underbellies.

I suppose this would be the part where I pick up a camera and snap pictures. The part where I try to cement the memory with cheap knockoffs. But sometimes you just have to enjoy the little things, the short things, while they last. Sometimes you should let them happen and admire them while they do, and let them pass with grace when it’s time for them to go.

And so I watched, motionless, as the sun glided down from on high and artfully painted the sky.