wormandmarrow

[wormandmarrow]

signs of life - sept 24 pt 1.

spider's eating bees. black cat doing black cat things. big pumpkin. rose and shadow. multi-headed sunflower.

[wormandmarrow]

a soft and tender elation

prompt by kiki: write something happy.

Snow fall.

On Christmas Eve.

How unprecedented.

It was unusual for our town to get snow before January, but even then, it was usually just a pathetic lining of off-grey dust that mushed into the cracks of the cobblestone streets. As if everyone in the town had decided to smoke a pack of cigarettes and use the grout as an ash tray. It made me want to power wash the streets so they could return to their usual well maintained shine. And I detest manual labour.

And this town.

But this snow fall is different. It’s beautiful. It’s as if I can see every single snowflake, full and fluffy, drifting from the sky, dancing in laughter. They settle soft on the ground, before sinking, melting into each other as if they always knew they were always meant to be one. Blanketing the world in a soft and tender elation. Joy, quiet and still.

Brew was right. Of course, they were. I have never seen anything quite like it.

My phone lights up, vibration humming low and muffled, the routine loudness absorbed by my wood coffee table. As if it too does not wish to disturb that which has been quieted by the snow. Brew’s name lights up the screen, and my heart lifts.

“What would you say if I was outside?” They ask in lieu of a greeting. They very rarely say hello. Just jump right in as if we’ve always been mid conversation. It always feels like we are.

I lean back into the couch and smile. “I’d ask for how long, you peeping tom.”

“So, I shouldn’t use this shiny new key then?” A softness in their voice peaks through. A vulnerability in the corner of their laughing tone I wish to touch. I gave them the key last week, and it remained unused. I hadn’t wanted to push.

“I’d be sad if you didn’t.”

A nervous breath. I don’t know if it’s mine or theirs.

“See you in a sec.” The call ends.

The snow falls. I can’t believe Brew came all the way here in this weather. The latch clicks. But I suppose I knew they would. The door opens with a gentle comfort.

I walk over, picking up the cup of tea I had prepared for them just in case. “You were right about the snow. It’s beautiful.”

Brew greets me with a smile. Snow still clinging to their brown teddy hat and puffer jacket and eyelashes. “Want to go play in it?”

I want to be shocked, but I know that they mean it. They’re so earnest.

I avoid my usual instincts. I don’t check the time. I don’t think about the cold or the wet or my lack of snow boots or appropriate gear or any other reason to say no. Why would I want to say no?

I offer Brew the mug. “Peppermint. Warm up and prepare to lose this snowball fight.”

They wrap their brown fingers around the mug and laugh. “Thank you for tea baby, but I promise, I’m not gonna lose to a newbie.”

I roll my eyes playfully, and shove my feet into a pair of boots, my arms through my biggest jacket. I don’t have a pair of gloves, but when I turn back around Brew holds out a pair for me.  The ones they were wearing.

They’re warm around my fingers when I slide them on. I didn’t realize I was so cold. I want to give them back, to let them keep their warmth and sweetness, when I see another pair of glves sticking out of Brew’s bag. They want me to have the warm pair.

“It needs to be a fair match.” They say, misunderstanding my hesitation. Or understanding completely and not wanting to sit in it too long. I’m still learning the subtleties of their expression, their places where they are surprisingly shy. “I can’t have you getting frostbite and saying that’s why you lost.” They put the now empty mug down on the foyer table and reach into their bag. “Here.”

They pull out a fluffy blue scarf. “For you.” It’s beautiful. They step close to me, and I raise my chin slightly to meet their eyes. Deep, brown, and warm. I want to swim in them.

“May I?” they ask.

I nod, because for some reason my throat is dry, and I cannot trust myself to speak.

Brew wraps the scarf around my neck, their long fingers steady and warm. The scarf is so soft. Their face is so close. Carefully, they move any dreads stuck in the scarf, pulling them out one by one. Their fingers caressing my neck.

“Do you like it?” The softness is back, the vulnerability in the corner of their tone.

“I love it.” It doesn’t come out louder than a whisper.

A chuckle rumbles out their chest, quiet and barely there. “You didn’t even look.”

“I did!” Indignation whirls me to the mirror, but my reflection makes me pause. “It’s beautiful.” It really is. The light blue is vibrant against my dark skin tone, the gold bright and clear. And it is truly the softest material I have ever felt. But there is something else, something radiating out of me. A shine in my eye I haven’t seen in a very long time, an uptick to my lips, a glow to my skin. I almost look…happy.

I don’t know when I got so lucky. I really don’t. Which deity deemed me worthy of somebody like Brew, I do not know, but I am grateful. I am so, so grateful.

The snow keeps falling. We play in its ardent delight. And I know that even when it begins to melt. When white turns to ash and grey and grout. The beauty will remain. Because Brew is in my life. And they are right.

I didn’t even look.