The Silence of Snow

There is a certain silence in the world when it’s snowing... the sky is a milky grey, and the snow, seemingly endless, gently blankets the ground.

I lay in the snow, bundled in a snowsuit and jacket. Striped gloves cover my hands. The scarf around my neck has been irritating my skin, but I can hear my mother’s voice telling me to keep it on in the back of my head. I’ve been laying in the snow for, what seems like, hours... but my eyes aren’t tired from watching the snowflakes as they continue to fall. I wonder if it’s only been a few minutes.

The quiet that comes with the snow is easy to notice, but hard to tune into. I’ve had to practice listening to the silence for a long time. I can remember hearing it during my first real snow... I was four, and my parents put me into snow pants and a big jacket. The socks on my feet were thick, and the boots were annoyingly heavy. As a kid who grew up on the beach, I wasn’t used to the frigid wind that whips against your cheeks. My father tried to get me to play in the deep snow, but I could hardly move. My boots were weighing me down. He pushed me over to make a snow angel, and I laid still. That’s the first time I heard the silence of winter.

As I continued to grow, like most children do, I found myself slowly learning to love the season. It was cold, sure, but Ohio winters weren’t terrible like out west. And they sure were more beautiful than Florida’s lack of snow. My friends and I would make snowmen and pelt each other with snowballs. But I always found time to lay in the blanket of snow that coated the ground. I looked forward to finding that silence.

Now, as a 26-year-old, I find myself craving that silence more than anything. The layer of peace that comes with it. The warmth of the layers that cover my body whilst the outside world tries to freeze me out. It’s like the whole experience slows my always-turning brain down. It makes me pause. It slows the thoughts and forces me to have one at a time. So, I lay in the snow out in the backyard.

I hear the hinges of the back door whine in protest as the door swings open. It cuts through the silence like a knife cutting through something thick. I push myself up into a sitting position while Ash makes her way out to me. She’s dressed in her snow pants and jacket, and her brown hair is tucked into her hat. I smile at her as she steps closer.

“What’re you doing?” I ask. The snow crunches beneath her boots. She stops in front of me, then lowers herself down into the snow.

“Better yet, what’re you doing?” She replies with a grin. I shrug my shoulders. It’s hard to explain to people... but Ash isn’t like most people.

“I am... listening to the silence of the snow.” I look over at her, stopping to admire her profile.

“To the silence of the snow...” She repeats. I nod, and then I lay back into the freezing blanket. She follows suit, and soon her hand finds mine. Our fingers interlock. We say nothing for quite some time. Her gloved hand rests in mine, and together we watch the grey sky.

I’m unsure how long we stay outside... but eventually, my cheeks begin to sting from the cold. More than they did before Ash came out. I help pull her into a stand, and we make our way inside our home. We strip from our drenched snowsuits and jackets, down to our long johns that were beneath our clothes. We hang everything up to dry, and then we venture further into the kitchen to start on dinner.

“I wonder if Erin ever saw snow.” I say as I warm up the leftover pot roast. Ash is in the living room, setting up our trays and turning on the TV for our nightly movie. She comes back to me after a moment, and I turn to look at her.

Erin, the woman who gave me life. The woman who made the selfless decision to put me up for adoption, in best interest for me, was made of sunshine herself. It’s been a persistent thought... even when I was younger. I always wanted her to come to Ohio and see how winter is supposed to feel.

She died early last year.

And it’s not that I wonder if she’s seen the snow... even though I know that’s what I just said. I wonder if she ever craved the silence of it. Her mother was from Minnesota. She told me herself that she has been up there before. But I know that we had similar brains... always running. Always turning with new ideas, random facts, and too many thoughts. I just wonder if she ever got to experience the quiet. I wonder if she found that quiet as she slowly slipped away.

I grab bowls for our dinner while Ash gets our drinks. She plants a kiss on my cheek as I spoon out our portions. I smile as she wanders back into the living room.

We put on a Christmas movie while we eat our dinner. The snow outside has picked up, falling faster and sticking to the ground even more. It’s visible only in the streetlights. Our Christmas tree’s rainbow lights twinkle in the dark of the living room, casting a different type of silence throughout the house. I check my phone for the time, and when I look at the date, I let out a laugh.

“What?” Ash looks at me, eyes wide.

December 18th.

“It’s Erin’s birthday.” I reply. Ash looks at me, and then her head tips to the side.

“I’d say she has heard the silence.” I blink at her, and she shrugs. “I mean, you just laid outside for... three hours. She was definitely with you.”

I look back down at my phone, staring at the date. She would’ve been 49 this year.

“Yeah,” I smile softly. “I think you might be right.”