Winter Dreams

Everyday I dream of winter.  The warm blankets wrapped around me, while I stare out at the dark moonlit night, watching snowflakes drift past my window.  This saddening feeling, of utter loss, while the sky and ground alike form puddles.  Bending and twisting, falling and repeating, tears roll down my tired, worn out cheeks.  The door closed behind me, the window open wide.  A cold wind twists my hair about, ending in a messy curl about my neck.  Memories slowly happen again before my eyes, reliving past joys.  This old woman, with tears still in her eyes, smiles sweetly and warmly, before saying goodbye to the beautiful world, where no family lives, dying a lonely but comfortable death.

Across the other side of the world, in a different time, in a different space, a little girl stares out a similar window in a hospital room.  With a lamp on next to her, she glances around the half-lit room, her dark gaze landing on the form of the small kitten sleeping gently on her lap.  A soft humming purr conveying contentment and warmth.  A borrowed blanket, a gift of comfort from the chill of the room and the sadness within.  Slowly, cautiously, she reaches out to stroke this warmth, this fragile bit of life which so calmly accepts her being.  With her hand so tentatively resting on this life, she looks down ashamedly, regretting the attempts on her own life.  Avoiding her injuries and I.V, she looks out again,  with no friends or family to visit.  An empty room, devoid of any happiness, is silent for the drumming of machines.